


Father Forgive Me

by Blackrayvn



Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens (TV) RPF, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens AU - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Sharing, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Turned Into Vampire, Confessional, Creepy, F/M, Father Ezra Fell - Freeform, First Love, Forbidden Love, Gay Sex, Human/Vampire Relationship, Ineffable Love, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Hastur (Good Omens), Minor Violence, Priest Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Michael, Pure Aziraphale (Good Omens), Religion, Sex, Suggestive Themes, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Tempting Crowley, True Love, Vampire Bites, Vampire Crowley (Good Omens), Vampire Hunters, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Witch Anathema, au good omens, creepy Michael (Good Omens), dangerous love, impossible love, teased
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackrayvn/pseuds/Blackrayvn
Summary: Father Ezra Fell is adored by his congregation.A stranger arrives during a horrendous storm outside,while Ezra is allowing his congregation to fill the cathedralfor protection.Mr. A.J.Crowley introduces himself,he announces he was sent to find the fatherfor a confessional. The congregation, Michael,tried to prevent the father from doing the confession,but as the confession happens, a strange turn of eventshappens, in the end the father retreats to his room,and Crowley all but vanishes.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Gabriel, Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Michael (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Hastur (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device, Crowley & Hastur (Good Omens), Crowley & Michael (Good Omens), Gabriel/Michael (Good Omens), Hastur - Relationship
Comments: 35
Kudos: 61





	1. Cathedral Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> More tags will be added as the story progresses.  
> Please feel free to leave comment, or thoughts on the story.
> 
> By all means, feel free to add in things that you would like to see as well.
> 
> All in all please enjoy the story, weekly updates will happen  
> if not twice a week.
> 
> Come see me on Twitter I love a good conversation
> 
> @blackrayvn (I still haven't worked out how to just link this.
> 
> https://twitter.com/blackrayvn

**Forgive Me Father**

**Chapter One**

_Cathedral Confessions_

**https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi5w_nS-vg95osOSwsbagW0p**

Lightning flashed outside of the Cathedral, the thunder crashed, long and rolling. A storm brewed harder and stronger as the winds picked up, trees bending, blowing, purple flashes of light brought everyone inside to a standstill, the thunder loud reverberating off the bells in the tower. 

All the souls in the Cathedral stood in shock, glancing between one another at the storm's power. It was then that Father Ezra came out from the confessional booth as the last flash of light shook the Cathedral, only to be part of the silence of the people, God's thunderous roar rolled on and on. Only then as the thunder dampened, the doors to the Cathedral opened. A single soul stood there, soaked through from the storm that was raging outside.

Nuns quickly ran to assist the sole man, bringing him in, welcoming him as they quickly closed the door. Father Ezra quickened his own pace to meet the man that had entered the Cathedral. The stranger, dressed in black silks and velvets, well dressed, obviously a man of the upper society. Strangely enough, as the coat he wore was removed and shaken out, he kept the glasses on that shadowed his eyes.

Father Ezra reached the man, bowing his head slightly in greeting and holding his hand out. The man cast a look at the hand and then to the pure and bright blue eyes of the Father. The smirk was gleeful, although quickly present danced across the lips before sauntering away. The man took the Father's hand, and with a tilt of his own head, a touch of his other hand's fingers to his hat, he introduced himself.

"Greetings and Salutations, sorry for intruding on your Cathedral with such a storm raging outside, but I wanted to see the Father here. I believe his name was Father Ezra Fell." The man shook the Father's hand and looked down at it. How it fit into his hand was uncanny, he could feel the warmth of the Father filtering through his gloved hand. 

He saw they were littered with silvers and golds, looking once more into those blue eyes, worthy of an angel. Tilting his head, he waited for a moment for the Father to answer him. Only to see hesitation and a glance from his glasses to his hand.

"Oh, forgive me, we don't get many respectable people here when we have a service." Father Ezra shook his hand, grimacing at his words of ~respectable people~. However, when dealing with the upper society, one had to show more proper respect than usual. "You have no reason to apologize for coming in during the storm, that is what we are here for. To help all the wayward souls weather whatever storm befalls them." 

The Father smiled brilliantly at the man before he stopped realizing he had not answered or introduced himself. "Forgive me, I am so very sorry, truly, how very rude of me, I am Father Ezra, and you might be?" Father Ezra waited, a tilt of his own head, a squeeze of the hand that he held, an expectation of answers.

"Well then, I see my search is over than, Father. I am Mr. A.J.Crowley, and I was told to seek you out for confession." Crowley smiled, it seemed to not quite fit his face as the Father watched, Something was off, he could feel it in his soul. All the hairs on his arms stood on end, each word the man spoke, made his spine feel as though the storm that raged outside had taken over.

"I see, how very, strange." Father Ezra released Mr. Crowley's hand, without thought, wiping down the side of his cossack. The feeling of something being off was more than adequate, given the circumstances. The Father could feel the tension building within the Cathedral, the clergy, the nuns, and even the people that had run to the Cathedral for protection from the storm, which could feel Mr. Crowley's presence. 

"Might I inquire as to who would have sent you all the out here, on the borders of two of the most dangerous districts for confession? Someone of your caliber surely was far closer to any other Cathedral than this one." Father Ezra tilted his head in question, before stiffening his spine, something was off. Though he was taught to never turn away a soul, especially one that seeks forgiveness.

Crowley let his smirk die from his face as he took in the Father. "Should I seek someone else then? Are you turning me away?" Eyes that hid behind glasses of dark looked the father up and down from the bottom of his cassock to the top of the platinum curls that were a tad too long for a father, but somehow fit him just the same. To Crowley, the Father didn't truly meet what he expected him to be.

A touch to rebellious looking, like the curls of the Father's hair resting on a pale forehead, his lips a tactility pink and inviting, yet eyes that held him at bay from even considering. Crowley waited for an answer still examining the Father, not thin, not heavy, just something in the middle, a cherub, but more beautiful to behold, and then the Father spoke. An angelic voice that destroyed Crowley's thoughts and concentration without trying, demanding to be heard.

"I would never turn away a soul, I merely was inquiring, seeing as we here are nowhere, well to be blunt, we are not near the wealthy. I, of course, will gladly take your confession, please, when you are ready, just enter whichever booth you would like, and I shall follow."

Father Ezra spoke plainly, evenly without Crowley's exasperation, his questions would go unanswered if need be but a confession he would take. Watching as Crowley nodded and headed for the confessional booth, Father Ezra took in all that was Crowley, at least what he could see.

Flaming waves that dropped to just past straight shoulders, a serpent tattooed just under the temple. A serpent, Father Ezra, could only assume that it was a family mark, letting those around Crowley know which family he belonged to without asking. That mark alone made Crowley even further from this Cathedral, from Father Ezra. Crowley pale, yet with color, not like Father Ezra's paleness or pallor.

The clothes fitting him perfectly tailored to meet Crowley's frame. The Father couldn't help but notice the height, and the legs that walked away from him. Crowley didn't walk to the confessional booth; he swayed, swaggered, and sauntered all at the same time. Crowley's very presence demanded respect and brought forth a bit of fear and mystery.

Crowley picked the booth furthest from the others, almost at the door of the Father, where he resided. The door opened, and as Crowley stepped inside, he peered quickly past the door. Even with the glasses on, Father Ezra felt his eyes upon him. The smirk that followed as the door closed brought forth a flustered blush that waltzed across the bridge of Father Ezra's nose but spin and twirled down his neck, disappearing under the clerical collar.

Father Ezra turned towards the clergy and the nuns that watched on as well with great interest. Some looked on with fear, with concern as they looked at the Father. Father Ezra was adored by the people that came to the Cathedral, returning for masses for his love and attention. Most of the people, the souls, and the clergy would give their lives to protect their Father. To them, he was the very mouthpiece of God, and with him, they were heard.

The Father had earned their respect, their love their adoration. As time and time again, his words his touches and reassurance would bring forth miracles. Healing those from sickness that would have otherwise died and perhaps the name of the Father was finally becoming known to the upper society. Fear of losing their Father suddenly gripped them all as they looked to their Father, their friend, their leader through the very depths of hell if need be...

Father Ezra smiled at them reassuringly and then to the confessional booth where a very strange and out of place man was waiting. Who had sent him here, why was he here. The Father started walking towards the confessional when one of his clergies stepped forward, blocking the Father's way. Father Ezra stopped, looking at the man he knew for the longest of times.

"Michael, what is wrong, my son?" Father Ezra inquired, a smile still on his face.

"I don't trust that man, Father, something is wrong with him, I can feel it, we all can. Please send him away without any further discussion." Michael whispered in a desperate breath. Father Ezra could feel the fear in his follower.

"You know I can't do that, Michael, if I am to turn away a soul because of a feeling, I am not doing the lord work. I cannot pass judgment on him, regardless of the feeling we all have, now, please. I must pass." 

Father Ezra placed his hand on Michael's shoulder, waiting yet pushing him to the side. Love and affection danced and played around the Father's aura. Making the group feel somewhat relieved; it was something about the Father that he always could do. Letting the love flow off him calmed people brought peace to the anxiety that Crowley brought to them all.

Michael sighed, allowing the Father to push him to the side. Watching, they all watched as Father Ezra made his way to the confessional. The door opening under the soft hands of the Father and then disappearing into the confession. The door clicked shut, and the Cathedral held their breath in unison, waiting for The Father to come back out, for Crowley to leave.

Father Ezra sat in his place, a soft seat, a cushioned place that had been made for him by the people that followed. With a graceful movement, the slide opened between Crowley and Father Ezra, a screen was all that separated them now, a wooden wall, a hidden screen and the air between them.

Father Ezra made a greeting as he waited for Crowley to start. He could feel as Crowley made the sign of the cross and then the words.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was …." Crowley almost chuckled at the words, he had to think for a moment. "Ahh yes, I remember now. I have never confessed, so I suppose that is as good of an answer as any." Then silence, a smirk almost palpable.

Father Ezra simply answer, in acknowledgment, there was still more to follow, but Ezra wasn't sure that Crowley knew the rest, he could feel and hear in the words he had spoken someone had given him some information.

"Now then, this is where you tell me your sins, my son, I cannot give you penance without that." Father Ezra was calm, understanding, patient as he waited. An almost silent chuckle Father Ezra caught under the screen, the air became charged with electricity for an unknown reason, something wasn't right.

"I see, let me see. I definitely have used the lords' name in vain, daily, multiple times. I have caused numerous women and men to call the lords name as well, not sure that counts, but yes, many timessss." Crowley grinned as he hissed out the last word, sighing as he remembered moments.

Father Ezra cleared his throat as his eyebrows rose higher on his face, this confession was not what he had expected. "I see, please go on." Father Ezra continued trying to push this confession to its completion.

"Hmm, let me think. In accordance with wrongdoings, I suppose I have multiple clandescent meetings for carnal needs, that's a sin as well. Tell me, Father, have you ever felt the need to sin. Sins of the flesh are so tempting, are they not?" Crowley grinned wickedly as he talked not of his sins but of the fathers, could Crowley tempt the Father? 

"No, I can say I have not, it is not a need for me. I am here to stop people from being tempted. Perhaps that is why you were sent here? Have you ever tried to not be tempted by the needs of the flesh?" Father Ezra was listening, but in his head, his body, Ezra could feel something coming from the other side of the confessional. What it was, he had no idea; he had never felt it before.

"Oh come now, Father, I am sure others have tried to tempt you. Look at you, ssso tempting." Crowley hissed in a whispered breath. Letting his fingers caress the screen between them, temptation smoothly flowed of Crowley, filling the booth. The air becoming heavy, touched with want, tainted with lust, a need forming somewhere in between.

"I assure you, I am not tempting in any way. Now, this is not about me, it is about you. Mr. Crowley, this is highly irregular. Now, what else have you sinned that needs penance?" Father Ezra continued, becoming flustered on his side of that booth. The shadow of Crowley's fingers on the screen took the attention of Ezra from his speech.

Soft fingers reached out to the screen. Crowley continuing to tempt, his own temptation slowly encompassing his own being. Father Ezra's fingers touched the screen, the warmth of his fingers touching Crowleys. A light gasp from Crowley caught the Father's attention, quickly placing his hands together, lacing his fingers withing his own. A breath leaving the Father as he didn't know he was holding.

A loud bang was heard throughout the Cathedral. The confessional door swung open, a brief glimpse of Crowley and then nothing. A blur and a burst of air hit the attendants within the Cathedral... Father Ezra's door opened, stepping out he grasped his chest. Michael was at the fathers' side in an instant, helping him toa pew, sitting him down.

"Are you okay, Father?" Michael had his hand on Ezra's shoulder, looking about the Cathedral. Crowley was gone, but no one actually saw him leave. "What was he father, why was he here, what did he say?"

Father Ezra looked at Michael with a faltering smile. "You know I can't tell you someone's confession, Michael. All I can say is I don't know what he is, or was, but we need to find out why someone sent him here." Ezra slowly stood back up, heading for his room. "I am going to lay down for a bit. Keep an eye on everything Michael, if you would." 

Michael nodded, watching the Father close the door behind him, a soft sigh leaving Michael turning back to the Cathedral. Michael motioned for the doors to be locked, forbading any more people from entering, the storm was at a high, and there were enough people now in the Cathedral. Michael sat in a pew across from Ezra's room and stared at the door with thoughts of his own.

Ezra gripped the back of his desk chair, quickly looking about his room. The walls lined with bookshelves, books on every surface that could hold one or two. Ezra loosed his collar, pulling out the white and laying it on the desk. Slowly he undid his cossack, hanging it next to his cape and hat.

Finally, Ezra was able to sit on his bed, his mind wandering to places it never had before., the words of Crowley playing a melody in his head, things that a father should never think of danced just on the edges of his pure mind. How could that being, bring forth thoughts that were forbidden, what was he? How did Crowley disappear like that, no one seeing him leave? That would mean he wasn't human but something else.

Ezra laid down upon his bed, placing his head upon the pillow, closing his eyes. Sleep took him; from the exhaustion that Crowley had caused, dreams grasped him, bringing forth a want. Dreams of a stranger, dressed in black, eyes never to be seen played with the Father's mind, his thoughts. Within a dream, the Father could see his hands, sliding up the sides of the strangers face. His fingers gingerly touching the sides of the darkened glass and removing them, only to have the dream change before he could see those eyes.

Crowley's hands slid down the front of his attire, straightening it out. Angrily sighing at his stupidity and how he had allowed his own temptation to flow so freely that it affected him. Now the need to have the Father was present, though that wasn't why he was sent there. He had failed in doing anything that he needed. The tainting of the Father was his job, what he needed to do. The Father had been seen, and what he could do, the purity of the Father was more than any other.

Crowley's job was to taint him, to corrupt the Father, then if need be or if it presented itself to turn him. The Father on their side would be ideal, though, Crowley now wanted the Father for himself. He didn't know why, though something about him, perhaps his eyes, his voice. Then is occurred to Crowley, mayhaps it was merely how pure the Father was, how he denied temptation, the way the warmth of his fingers through the screen.

Crowley decided he didn't want the Father; he wanted to taint and corrupt him. That was this feeling. Turning Ezra would just be the cherry on top of the dessert. Crowley now had a reason, had his footing, or so he thought.


	2. The Night Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the storm starts to fade and the father sleeps  
> Michael climbs the bell tower only to see something  
> below heading for Ezras room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More tags will be added as the story progresses.  
> Please feel free to leave comment, or thoughts on the story.
> 
> By all means, feel free to add in things that you would like to see as well.
> 
> All in all please enjoy the story, weekly updates will happen  
> if not twice a week.
> 
> Come see me on Twitter I love a good conversation
> 
> @blackrayvn (I still haven't worked out how to just link this.
> 
> https://twitter.com/blackrayvn

**Forgive Me Father**

Chapter 2

_The Night Of_

**_https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi7QqRemxiITJMgtfT5IiZG__ **

Michael waited until the Catherdral quieted, the restlessness of the people faded as eyes shut, praying to the very god that housed them through this storm and took them to sleep. As the candles flickered against the darkening of the fading lightning flashes, Michael stood, slowly walking to the door that separated him from the Father. Placing a hand upon the cold mahogany, Michael said a prayer of his own, to a god that would never grant his wish, his desire. Nor would he be forgiven for trying.

Looking up to the rafters of the Cathedral, Michael watched for a moment as the candles danced a dance between heaven and hell, the shadows dipping and falling away to the light of the candles. Turning with a push of the door, Michael quietly walked down the Cathedral center, taking in what gave him peace and what he feared most. Who was Crowley exactly, he had never heard that name before, nor had he ever seen that Serpent that adorned the strangers face.

Michael walked up the stairs, onward to the top of the tower, far above the Cathedral below. Decidedly Michael sat under the wooden bough the rain slowing to a gentle misting as the wind blew it up and under the bells. Closing silken grey eyes, Michael let the rain renew his watch, waking him just a bit more to keep watch on those below. Running his hands through his wet ashen blonde hair, he let his thoughts go over the evening's events.

A flash of lightning caught him just off guard enough that he jumped within his own skin. The hills just beyond the Cathedral lit up in the purple haze that the lightning cast over the valley to the west. Pulling himself a touch further away from the rain, Michael tried to remember if he had ever seen that mark, the fact that he knew he hadn't bothered him. To Father Ezra, Michael was wholesome, always on the side of the lord, but in the reality of things, he was the opposite.

Michael ran with the crowd that the upper nobility, the high society called upon to take care of people. He would have known that mark. Michael dragged his thoughts away from that and to his beloved Ezra. No one was going to pull the Father apart from the people here, and Michael liked it just fine where the Father was. His Ezra was as far away from the nobility as he could be, and if the nobility were to see, hear or simply be around his Ezra, they would take him.

Michael was not going to let that happen, he couldn't, Ezra was his even if he was beyond Michaels touch, his kiss, at least he had him here. Michael meant something to Ezra, as pure as it was, Michael had an imagination that suited him just as well. For the nights when he needed more, there were others, granted none of them was Ezra, but the hair, a close match, never the eyes though, and never facing Michael. Always from behind, no one matched the way Ezra looked, whether his purity or the fact that he was as angelic as he was, none could match him.

Standing, Michael leaned against the wooden towers' inner wall, still looking over the vast countryside that was laid before him. From the tower top, when the bells weren't ringing, the land was beautiful. You couldn't see what really was happening below, the horrors that some lived, or how much Ezra helped those around him. Light flashed in the distance, the purples washing into a white light, before fading away.

The breeze picked up, blowing Michaels's hair around his face as he looked out, something out of the corner of his eye dashed across the rooftop below. Leaning out as he held the wooden bough, Michael watched as whatever he saw was faster than any animal, almost too swift to keep track of. Eyes that glowed with a golden hue glanced up as Michaels hold broke off a piece of wood, it fell, landing just behind the being below. Covering his mouth, Michael flattened himself against the inner wall, holding his breath he waited.

Hearing the shuffling along the wooden tower, just outside, Michael turned quickly, running down the stairs and slamming the door shut. Locking as he backed away, he could hear the people stirring at his abruptly loud entrance back into the Cathedral. Looking up as he could hear the scurrying over the rooftop now, others stood glancing towards the rafters. Something was on the roof, moving towards Ezra's room in the back. Quickly Michael ran, slamming himself into the door that didn't budge; on the other side, Michael could hear the slithering, scurrying on the wooden floors.

Again Michael slammed himself into the door to no avail.

"Come 'ere, 'elp me somethin' is in with the Father!" Michael called towards the men who hurriedly came to his aid.

Golden eyes on the sleeping Father, ever so gently it crept up onto the bed. Slowly perching itself on the wooden frame of the bed, the beast could see the way each platinum curl rested on the pale forehead of its prey. Watching the rise and fall of every breath that Ezra took, the beast counted. Candles lit feathery shadows under long dark eyelashes that kissed each cheek.

A tilt of the beasts head, a memory of the starlit blue eyes that hid under closed eyelids, what dreams did the father dream. Did god herself visit this man, the purest of beings that graced the very earth, the building in which he resided? Did god in all her holiness make a mistake and send an angel to earth, that had to be the case, or why would he be here.

With a thought of silence, the room quieted from the banging of men. The door would not open, yet, not just this moment. A picture in the memory of the beast that perched on Ezra's bed he made. Every line, every scent, the way the light of the room kissed the man before him. Reaching forward with a clawed hand, lifting a curl of purity on a finger of evil, the beast sighed at the softness he found.

It was then as the beast sighed. The Father shifted just slightly, pressing his face against the clawed hand that found its way against his cheek. A smile, a murmur, a name, a thought, a dream? The suddenness of the name that was bestowed upon him too many years ago to remember had the creature unnerved. Losing his track of thought, the control he held on the door, the silence of the room, and of the man in front of him did the door finally find its release.

Together the men slammed into the door, once, twice, three times finally slamming it open. The creature perched over the Father turned ts head quickly, looking back at them. Eyes of molten gold glowed, blazed back at them, growling in low a sound that of a demon echoed throughout the Cathedral, yet Ezra didn't stir. Michael reached the side of the door where Ezra kept his walking stick, grabbed it in his hands, and lunged forward.

The beast reared back as it hissed, growling, lunging towards the wooden walking stick and reaching for it. Just as clawed hands wrapped around the end of the stick, they started to pull more men and pushed their way into the room, a torch being held by Gabriel. The creature edging its way back towards the open window, pushed back against the walking stick in its hand, knocking Michael to the ground.

Gabriel took the lead, stepping in front of Michael, blocking him from the creature. Using the torch to swing the fire in front of him, continuing to back the beast away, until, with a defeated growl, it jumped back out the window. Gabriel reaching out, slamming the window shut as all eyes turned towards the ceiling. The creature growling and running over the roof and up to the bells. A sudden loud ringing of the bell let the crowd know it had departed at least for now.

A collective breath was released as all went silent again, a worried calm fell upon the parishioners as all eyes fell onto the Father. Ezra had not moved, shifted, as far as they could tell he hadn't even breathed. Michael crawled over to the Ezras bed, pulling himself up to his knees and leaning against the bedclothes.

The softness of the bedcovers was not lost to Michael even as he leaned up, moving the hair off the Father's forehead. The rest looking on as though Michael was naturally careful, caring, protective. All of their thoughts were correct, though the underlying truth of Michaels's love, want, was not known. Quietly Micheal breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of his Ezra to remember.

Remember the feeling of Ezra's bed, the bedcovers, the color of cream with a splattering of tartan here and there. The softness of his hair as he moved it and then, the shuddering breath as air re-entered Ezra's lungs. Michael stood, just slightly further back from Ezra, letting him breathe.

"Father, Ezra, are you alright?" Michaels's voice was low, stuttering just shy of a hitched breath. Watching as Ezra's eyes opened, the starlit blue being lit by the candles in the room almost took what breath Michael had left away.

Gabriel stepped up next to Michael placing a hand on his shoulder for reassurance that the Father was alright. Glancing back over his shoulder to Gabriel with a nod, Michael stepped away, letting Gabriel take over. Having been with Father Ezra the longest, Gabriel was also the oldest amongst them, one of the first that Ezra had saved during his youth. Gabriel owed Ezra his very life, having saved him from being left for the wolves as his town was burned to the ground.

Father Ezra was not more than twenty when he found Gabriel and took him in, binding his wounds, feeding his starving belly, and loving him as his own. Gabriel often looked at Michael, something about him was a touch too protective, a bit wanton, and something that Gabriel watched carefully. Ezra's eyes became more focused as the haze left them, looking out into the room with a lost expression.

"Ezra look at me, are you alright?" Gabriel said slightly firmer, with more volume than Michael had used. Turning his head, Gabriel shooed everyone out. "Go on, go back to sleep, make sure everything is locked uptight." Gabriel waited a moment, looking at Michael seeing his indecisiveness to leaving. Gabriel didn't give him the option. "Close the door on your way out, Michael. Thank you."

Michael turned with a disgruntled expression on his face, his eyes narrowing just enough for Gabriel to pick up on it. Gabriel would remember that for later, but for now, he needed to make sure Ezra was alright, and what was that creature, for now, they needed to make it through the night, and mornings light would come soon enough for them all to go and look to see what they could find.

Gabriel waited for the door to close, listening for the click, and once it was heard, Gabriel pulled Ezra up. Forcing him to sit upright in his bed, bringing back a bit more focus to the Father. Ezra blinked a few times, turning his head almost surprised to see Gabriel in his bed chambers.

"Gabriel? What are you doing in here? what on earth happened, my dear boy?" Gabriel smiled, shaking his head, his auburn hair tied back with a cloth tie in a proper tail.

"Thank the lord Father, do you not know anything of what just happened?" Gabriel got off the Father's bed, sitting in the armchair across from him, Gabriel's favorite chair, where Ezra had read the bible and stories to him.

Ezra shook his head, pulling the bedcovers up closer to his chest, glancing around the room, realizing that he was very cold despite his blankets. Crossing his legs as he leaned back, Gabriel began to recant what had happened and what they had all seen. The concern, the worry, and fear that crossed the Father's face were well deserved as neither knew what they were dealing with.

Michael stormed from the room, his head kept down so the others could not see his dislike for Gabriel, his seething hatred for the man that stood between him and being Ezra's favorite. It didn't matter why Gabriel held the position he did, it didn't matter that Gabriel only viewed Ezra as a father figure and nothing more. It only mattered to Michael that Gabriel took time from him, and now there was a stranger and a beast?

What was it, Michael decided he would go into town in the morning, talk to some of the folk there, listen to their tales of creatures and nightwalkers. Perhaps there was some truth to it. Michael went to the dark corner of the Cathedral, far enough back not to be othered and dark enough to not be seen as he seethed.

A quiet fell upon the Cathedral, as the storm quieted and moved on. Trees stopped howling and creaking under the control and command of the winds outside. Children slept in their mother's arms, as fathers held their families within strong arms. Slowly the candles flickered and faded against the sun as it started rise lighting the valley beyond and the hills afar.

In the Father's room, Gabriel slept in his chair as Ezra dozed on and off. His vast mind trying to wrap around the terror that had befallen the Cathedral that night. The stranger that had arrived, the words he had used, and how openly he admitted to carnal sin, and if her Ezra had ever thought of, had ever done. Thoughts he never had to wrestle with before suddenly washed over and threw him.

Never staying long enough to bother, but enough of a question to wonder what the man was, where did he come from. Why was he really sent to the Father, and what did he really want. What was his interest in him, Ezra was nothing to look at, he thought, he was a father, he ushered people into the lord's arms at birth, through their lives and then in death. As his thoughts spun a spiderweb of questions, Ezra finally dozed off as the kiss of dawn crept into the Cathedral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://twitter.com/blackrayvn


	3. Village of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has come after the storm.  
> The cathedral is full of the people of the village, and Michael,  
> Gabriel and Father Ezra make a trip to see the damage.  
> Only to find death, orphans, and an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence, some talk of death  
> and what is found, nothing overly horrible, at least not yet.

**Forgive Me, Father**

_Chapter Three_

_Village of Death_

**https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi4SgpSuiAGiuHQzcV9KTtG2**

Crowley paced in his bedroom, his tomb, as the night started to turn to daylight. Reaching up, the thick curtains grasped firmly in clawed hand Crowley pulled it shut. Peeking out one last time as the sunlight started to filter in. How Crowley hated the sun, the memory of it alone brought forth anger and resentment. One fateful evening of drinking, of careless love, of a family that decided to forcibly take him in.

Slumping into his throne, Crowley sat there, leaning back, his legs sprawled over and around the arms of the chair. A deep sigh, a rub of his temples, Crowley let his mind remember, was he up to doing what was required of him. A good question, he thought to himself. Letting his head drop against the side, resting an elbow on the free throne arm, letting golden orbs slide shut, remembering.

Inhaling Crowley remembered her scent. The scent of roses, old leather books, chocolate, the feeling of platinum blonde hair sliding through his fingers. The night was wonderous. Crowley remembered the beginning fondly, so long ago, though, so many years. Leaving his love, Zira, home as he went out, cleared his head of the absinthe they had drunk together just for a moment.

Memories faded from light, beautiful to dark, cold, the pain. Crowley had walked outside into the night's fresh air, smiling, full of hope, love, and things to come. A stranger approached, hands visible, no threat until they stopped in front of Crowley. Backing away, a clawed hand reached out, grabbing him by the shoulder.

Struggling to get loose was of no use. It never was. A hand in Crowley's hair, one on his shoulder as his head was bent to the side. Struggle as he may, it was too late, it was over. Golden eyes quickly opened, shaking the rest of the memory away, it didn't matter now did it, probably not, it was too late for him. The taste in his mouth, foul, too familiar, what had he done that night, he could never forgive himself.

Standing abruptly from the throne, Crowley paced the same steps, for hundreds of years, the carpet worn under the strain of those paces. Walking to the window, Crowley thought of opening it, taking in the sun one last time, the thought comforted him, an end. As his hands gripped the curtains shaking in despair, a familiar scent reminded him, sighing his grip released. Where did he smell it again, it was renewed, not just a memory.

Walking to his bed, Crowley crawled into it, alone as he would be forever unless he opened those curtains. That would be an end that no one could take away from him. Crowley had a job to do, this time, and he was going to do it. A father, a priest, bringing back memories of old, more than upset Crowley. It scared him, where was that scent?

Golden eyes slid shut, and the nightmares began. The blood, the pain, the taste, then the scent, the smell of her drifted into his nose, he hated himself, as his insides screamed to stop, his newly found thirst dragged him to her. No fear as she saw him, he could see the blood thrumming through her veins, her arms raised rushing to him, blonde curls bouncing, her neck, his kiss opened as fangs descended, her taste flooded his mouth as her struggles went unnoticed. 

Zira's pleas unheard, her weight heavy as life left her. Crowley stood holding her in his arms as thirst left, and the realization hit, how he hated himself. The scream that left him only was answered by the laugh from the one that made him and as he leaped towards him, nothing but air leaving Crowley to his despair and his dead love. Crowley's last human thing he did was bury her, in the hopes of god guiding her.

Gabriels stirring across the room woke Ezra. Rubbing his eyes as the sun filtered through the stained glass windows from above the bowed out window seat. Hearing the yawn, Ezra sat up in his bed, looking over to Gabriel, his found and loved son. Ezra believed with his heart that God had sent Gabriel to him, to find and raise, and Ezra did so with gusto.

A smile creeping over Ezra's face told Gabriel precisely what he was thinking, with a shake of his head Gabriel chuckled.

"Yes, Father I am very appreciative that God brought me to you, I couldn't have asked for a better person." Gabriel stood with a teasing smirk and a nod, heading for the door. Ezra lifted a finger as he went to speak, but just as the words formed and started to leave his mouth, a sudden knock on the door jostled both he and Gabriel.

Gabriel quickly opened the door, letting his very tall, muscular figure block Ezra's entryway, just in case. Michael stood there looking up at Gabriel, the unrest and dislike were clearly visible on Michaels's face. Stepping just a step closer, Gabriel waited; Michael sighed, backing up from the door, looking past Gabriel.

"Father Ezra, the town is in a shambles, the storm flooded parts, and others well are still burning. The Cathedral is filling!." Without a word, Ezra stood with a nod, shooing both Gabriel and Michael away as he dressed.

Grabbing for his cossack, sliding it quickly over his head, feeling the wool and silk slip over his frame. Refreshing as it slid to a stop at his ankles, sitting, placing his feet into the silken covered shoes, then the boots that would protect from the cold, the mud, whatever they were about to find. Looking once in the full-length mirror, Ezra went to turn. Something catching his eye, just out of the corner of his view, he swore he saw something move.

A knock on the door stole his attention away again, as Ezra opened the door to walk out, his hand reached for his cape and hat. Placing it about his body and atop his head, Michael, Gabriel, and Father Ezra headed into the Cathedral to see what could be done.

Father Ezra entered the Cathedral first, only to see what amounted to the entirety of the village sitting in pews. All eyes turned to him, turned to their Father, their hope and joy. Their Father was watching the one that would make sure all were cared for, fed even if Ezra went without. Father Ezra could see and feel the love that the village had for him, even in a time such as now.

Father Ezra touched many hands as he went through the center of the Cathedral towards the doors. He needed to see the damage that brought all of his congregation to him on this day. The walk would be long, but informative, a nice walk to chat, talk, and see what would be seen.

As cathedral doors opened to the outside world, the sun beamed happily down on father Ezra lighting his hair like a halo. Breathtaking to Michael, who watched, unrequited want and love pouring from him as Gabriel watched. A frown blessing Gabriels face seeing the emotion that Michael could not hide from him. Gabriel knew, but Father would never believe it, only seeing the good in all.

Mud covered the roads to the village, trees were down, pools of water glistened under the sun. As Ezra looked up in the sky, the clouds white and pure, the sun bright, and the trees that remained strong. A silent sigh left him, but not missed by Michael. Michael watched as pink lips parted, letting the air Ezra held left him.

"Are you alright, Father?" Michael stepped closer to Ezra, his hands at his side, letting one brush against Ezras, without Ezra realizing it.

"Oh, yes, my dear, of course, I am. The walk is just a bit mucky even though the lord has graced us with the light of day." Ezra continued to look up at the sky, his starlit blue eyes closing, feeling the warmth of the sun. Love, devotion, and angelic radiance fell from Father Ezra, drawing those around him in, wanting to be near him.

"How bad do you think it will be Ezra? I mean from the storm?" Michael enquired, looking longingly at the Father, whose attention was not placed on Michael but elsewhere as Ezra looked around. Though Gabriel was quick to ascertain the error before Michael did.

"Michael, Father Ezra, not Ezra, knows no more than you, and we will all see, together, what the village has been through. I do fear for the worse, though. Old trees and all." Gabriel spoke with authority, his words those of a child who felt his parent disrespected. Gabriel only put up with so much from Michael, to Gabriel Michael, was an open book.

The disgust that Gabriel had towards Michael was well-founded. The want, the need that Michael steadily dripped with over the Father was more than Gabriel would deal with. This walk was testing his patience. Gabriel saw when Michaels's hand was purposefully brushed against his fathers, the way his words were always worded with duel meaning.

Michael looked at Gabriel and rolled his eyes, a smirk stayed on Gabriel's face knowing that Michael knew he was caught. Clearing his throat, Michael stayed silent for a moment, merely walking like the rest. Father Ezra looked around, and as the group rounded the last corner and stood atop a small hill that looked down into the village, Father Ezra sighed. This would take work to repair.

Walking into the village, Ezra passed a small house, a child's tired cry he could hear. Quickly he turned to the house, going to the door, knocking but nothing, he opened the door. A small child sat in the water on the floor, his eyes red from crying, Ezra walked to him. Small arms reached up and were quickly greeted by Ezra's own, pulling him up against him and wrapping him within his cloak.

Gabriel followed, looking around violet eyes caught sight of a closed door, there was no more noise as Ezra left the house with the child bringing him into the light of the sun.

"Hello?" Gabriel walked to the closed door, knocking once, twice, nothing. With a strong arm, Gabriel pushed the door open, only to back away from the sight.

"Oh dear lord, don't come in here with the child father, but I need you here," Gabriel called out, hearing the commotion outside as the child was handed off to Michael. Ezra walked in, standing next to Gabriel. There were no words, nothing holy was here, only the devil himself.

Father Ezra walked to the bed where the child's mother was laid upon, her head bent in a strange angle. Blood covered the woolen duvet, her arm twisted behind her, eyes open, scared. The light of life had long gone, gently Father Ezra moved the woman's head to the side, fixing the angle. Gabriel pointed to the lines of blood that ran down her neck.

Father Ezra touched the wounds, puncture wounds that dragged down her neck, opening the vein wide. Gabriel looked at Ezra as he motioned to fix her arm, showing the woman some form of respect. Ezra looked to the door, he needed to check the child.

"Gabriel finish here, please cover her, I need to check the child. Once I am done there, I will need a moment with her, she deserves her last rights and a hand to guide her to her Father." Ezra's eyes showed a sense of sadness, one that mere mortals would never understand, he felt her death and felt the loss. Gabriel nodded as he watched Ezra leave the house.

F=Ezra held his arms out for the child, Michael handed him over, with a tilt of his head in question.

"It's another attack, Michael, we need to find what animal is doing this. This one was far worse." Ezra held the child, slowly moving his head up and back. Looking at all angels around the child's neck, and then his body. Bruises, scrapes, and exhaustion were all that harmed the child.

Handing him back over to Michael, Ezra turned back to the house. Gabriel came out, holding the door open for the Father. Walking in, Father Ezra kneeled before the bed. Clasping his hands together, lowering his head, Ezra started to pray for the woman. Though as he did, he couldn't help but wonder who she was, he knew all of his congregation.

"Per istam sanctan unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum, audtiotum, odorátum, gustum et locutiónem, tactum, gressum deliquisti." Father Ezra kept his head lowered as he spoke. "May my words, may my prayers guide you home to your father, my child." Father finished, covering her face, he left, closing the door, placing a cross on the door.

The three padded to the main square of the village. The surrounding areas were deafeningly silent, no sound, not even an animal. Trees were down, some houses were under them, holding them up. Others were still smoldering, the storm had wreaked havoc. Looking around, the Father knew it would take time, but it could be repaired, the Cathedral could house those that had lost home in the storm.

What bothered Ezra more than anything was the woman they had found and this child. Gabriel and Michael had set off in different directions to see if anyone else was in need, hurt or the lord forbid, dead. Ezra caught sight of the tavern and headed in that direction, perhaps there would be someone there. The tavern wasn't known for closing down or leaving it unmanned.

Michael had rushed through his area and made it back to Ezra before Gabriel had. Finally, alone with the Father, regardless of the situation, Michael was beside himself with joy. Keeping an utterly worried look about him, inside, he was singing as he made it to Ezra's side. Taking Ezra's hand in his own and bringing it to his lips, respectfully kissing it before releasing it.

Father Ezra looked shocked for a moment, but the gesture wasn't new, it was something that all did. Michael just happened to take pleasure in it in a different way. Michael took in the warmth, the softness of Ezra's hand, how it delicately fit in his own. Letting Ezra's hand slide from his own, feeling the friction of the warmth slide against his own roughened hand. Michael slid up Ezra before dropping away as the Father's hand did.

"Michael, did you find anything?" Ezra was no closer to seeing the real Michael than he had ever been.

"Nothing, I think most be at the Cathedral father." Michale's breathing was off, just enough for Ezra to notice it.

Placing his hand on Michaels's shoulder unexpectedly, made it that much more noticeable.

"Are you alright, Michael? You hadn't need to run my child. W#alking would have been alright as well." Ezra beamed a smile that removed breathing from Michael. Ezra looked just beyond Michael as Gabriel walked up the path, leading a few more children with him, the sun setting behind them.

"Oh, Gabriel, you found more? Their parents?" Ezra looked to Gabriel, who was outwardly glaring at Michael.

"Same Father, all the same. There are four more that are in need of your guidance, these poor ones, all hid under the floorboards. Perhaps when we get back to the Cathedral, we can find out more?" Gabriel was holding them close to him, as the little ones were wrapped around his legs, for warmth.

The children seeing the Father ran to him, arms wrapped around the Father. These children he knew, from their birth, and he knew the parents even longer. Sadness grew within Ezra seeing what he was now up against, this was four children that were parentless, and four parents that were now gone. Ezra hung his head, letting his hands pull the children safely closer to him.

"The sun is setting Gabriel, we cannot expect these dear ones to walk all the way back now, not in the dark, after what they have gone through. Perhaps we can arrange rooms in the tavern, and I can see to their parents before nightfall." Ezra turned as Gabriel agreed to open the door to the tavern, whose most significant safety was being in the center of the village.

The tavern was well it, warm with a fire, the smell of food cooking in the back, and the upbeat tavern keeper waved as they came in. Seeing the children, Shadwell ran over to help with them. Shadwell knew everyone in his village, children included. Tiny arms wrapped around Shadwell, being the strong man he was picked up all four children in one fell swoop.

"Parents?" Shadwell asked, without saying more, the group knew what he was looking for. Father Ezra shook his head. Shadwell sighed, walking away with the children, bringing them back to the fire, and to the food that his wife Tracey had cooked up.

Looking out the window, the sun was quickly setting, Ezra needed to take care of the fallen before another night had gone. As Ezra went to the door, he motioned for Gabriel.

"Which houses Gabriel?" Sighing, Gabriel pointed down the road to the left of the tavern.

"The last two houses on the road." Gabriel opened the door for Ezra and waited to see if he was needed.

"No, Gabriel, let me do this. Keep the children safe. I'll return shortly." Father Ezra walked out into the village square, taking a deep breath of the soon to be nights air.

Gabriel and Michael watched as Ezra walked towards the houses. They may not have been needed, but they were going to watch Ezra get there. Finally, seeing the Father walk into the first house, both men turned and went back into the tavern. Taking a seat at the table by the fire, Michael brought two pints of ale, setting them down Michael gracelessly plopped into the chair.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at Michael.

"What's your problem with me, Gabriel?" Michael boldly asked, with a smirk.

"You want the truth, or should I be godfearing?" Gabriel leaned forward, taking the ale from the middle of the table. Leaning back in the chair, tilting it back on the legs.

"Truth always the truth Gabriel, it's a sin to lie," Michael announced sing-songy in wicked teasing.

"Alright. Truth it is. I think you're disgusting, the way you all but drool over my Father. The way you look at him, the way that look all but undresses him. I hate to imagine the sinful thoughts you have." Gabriel said it bluntly, no pretense, no doubt, his words ring unequivocal, true.

As Gabriel's words floated in the air between them, Michael wickedly smiled. Taking in the terms as though they were a badge of honor to hold, though, at the same time, Michael knew he had been found out. Gabriel was now a problem, and to Michael, issues needed to be solved.

"Oh, so you think I have sinful thoughts, do you?"

"Don't lie, Michael, as you said, lying is a sin."

"Fine, yes. To all of it, and what of it? It's not like Ezra can be tainted, even though I would love to try." Michael smirked with full hatred of Gabriel.

Gabriel stood, his chair falling back, his fist flying in front of him, catching Michael on the chin. Stumbling back, Michael hit his head, rolling over, Michael got up, bringing his fist back to match Gabriels. Shadwell had heard the commotion and quickly made it over to the two men.

Grabbing Michaels's arm and pulling him around, Shadwell pinned him against the wall. Michael felt his arm bend at the elbow, up behind his spine, the weight of Shadwell pressing into him.

"Now, now, boys. We wouldn't want to have to inform the good Father about any of this now do we, huh Michael, especially you." Shadwell gave Michaels arm a good pull for good measure when Michaels nod finally released his arm.

"Sorry, Shadwell, I should have controlled myself," Gabriel said, bowing his head in recognition of his actions.

"Nah, boy. Michael needs a bit of roughing up once in a while," Shadwell ruffled Michaels's hair as he left the two. "Might want to come up with a reason for that bloody lip, though. Father won't miss it."

Crowley waited at the window, looking just above the top and seeing what light filter was in slowly changing to that of moonlight. Clawed fingers ripped open the curtains, opening the windows, he inhaled deeply. Finally, the night was upon him, freedom from this room, from the people of the house he more than often hid from. Deciding not to use the door, Crowley dropped from his window, landing silently on the lawn.

There was a village, a cathedral, and a priest, a father that needed attending too. At least that was what he was told, never enough information as to the whys, or the whats, just go and do. Crowley despised it, hated almost all of them, he tolerated them, at the best of times.

Crowley was fast, but he also had inherited a few tricks. Within a shimmer of darkened mist, Crowley slithered into a serpent, a creature of the night. Black with iridescent scales, crimson adorned his underside, slithering through the ground back to the Cathedral. There he waited, seeing the people coming and going, setting up places to sleep.

Crowley still hadn't seen the Father, which meant, more likely than not, he had gone to the village. These people were all villagers, and Crowley headed out to the village with Ezra, nowhere to be seen. He made it to the village, slithering through and under the muck, and in passing houses, he heard a sound. A voice. One that called to him, one that he knew.

Crowley had listened to it just the day before, he hadn't forgotten it, it was too soon. Slowly Crowley looked about, shimmering back into his human form and walking to the door. Partially open, he looked in, there on his knees with head bowed was Father Ezra. Before him, two people lovingly covered, being respected as Ezra guided them in word and prayer.

Silently Crowley entered the house, closing the door behind him. As he made his way, he stood above Ezra looking down upon him, as though he were prey. Lifting a clawed hand, reaching for Ezra's shoulder, the moonlight lit Ezra's hair. As he knelt there, Crowley was taken aback the simple fact of the way the light embraced Ezra. Platinum hair that lit like a halo that surrounded Ezra's head, a tear fell, catching the light as though diamonds were falling from an angel.

Crowley silently backed away when a voice touched him.

"I know you're there. If you are to take my life, then do it quickly." Ezra never lifted his head, never looked behind him.

Crowley smirked. Taking a step forward, Crowley bent at the waist, his lips next to the Father's ear, whispering.

"Clever priest aren't you, what fun would it be to take your life? Especially one so willing to let it fall." Crowley wickedly smiled as his eyes took in the lit hair that was so close to him.

"You are as much a creation of god, I will not take a life, nor will I ever." Ezra turned his head, his eyes opening.

Starlit angelically blue eyes caught sight of the darkened glasses next to him, only a sliver of gold around the rim, interesting. Crowley went to step back, not expecting the Father to be so bold, but Crowley inhaled deeply in his haste. Catching a scent from long ago, too much too quickly as his eyes widened.

Roses, old leather books, chocolate surrounded him. As his head tilted, he placed Ezra firmly in his memory for not more than a moment. Ezra stood, looking back at Crowley, taking a step forward, forcing Crowley back. Ezra raised a hand towards Crowley, hidden eyes dropped to the hand, then back at those eyes.

"No." Crowley stumbled back as eyes widened. Nightmares flashed in front of him, his eyes darting between the outreached hand and the job that Ezra was.

Ezra took yet another step forward, his hand still outstretched. Crowley was stuck between leaving, doing his job that he was given, and simply staying. Crowley wondered if they knew this if somehow they knew what  
Ezra represented, something closer to purity, a step closer to being human. Something that couldn't be tainted, it went against even their code of law, but here he was.

Crowley looked into those eyes before he realized what he was doing, his hand slid into platinum hair lit by the moon. Clawed fingers twisted within the curls, Crowley's eyes took in the light that wrapped his fingers, tilting a pure head back Ezra's neck was bare. Crowley could see the thrumming of the blood that coursed through the Father, smiling for a moment, letting his tongue run over the vein there.

Tasting the scent that now surrounded him, his teeth pricked the pale throat that Crowley had bared. Ezra neither fought nor was afraid, standing there with his neck exposed to Crowley. Anger filled Crowley. He wanted Ezra to fear him, acknowledge his control of life or death. Ezra gave neither. Instead, Ezra spoke, whispered.

"I know who you are, Anthony J. Crowley, and I do not fear you. If you wish my life, then take it. Was it you that killed these people that you leave me to guide to their Father? I will not bow to you, now or ever."

Crowley growled, his teeth barely pricking the skin under them, a small touch of blood-stained Crowley's fang. Letting go of Ezra with a push, Crowley ran his tongue over his fang, tasting the Father's blood.

"You'll fear me, Father, this is not my work if it were you would know. Take this night as a gift, for the next one, I doubt you'll be this lucky." Crowley bowed, albeit sarcastically, with a dramatic flourish and was gone.

Ezra fell back against the wall, holding himself up. Gently touching his neck, the smallest of marks left, he could only hope it was not noticed by anyone. Gathering his belongings father, Ezra hurriedly needed to get back to the Cathedral, to safety. Opening the door he walked in, gathering as much calm about him, he sat in front of the fire, closing his eyes, unable to shake that hand's feeling in his hair. Ezra prayed to God to help him through whatever this was.

Michael had gone out to use the outhouse, kicking rocks here and there. Irritated that he let Gabriel get the upper hand in the tavern, feeling stupid to have been so obvious about the Father. Running his tongue over the bloody lip, he reached up to touch it. A hand slinked around his neck from behind, tilting his chin back, his eyes towards the moon.

Feeling a tongue drag over his bared flesh, his eyes closed, there was nothing he could. Trying to turn his head, struggling to get away did nothing, Michael was stuck with whatever had him. Teeth pricked at his neck, his heart raced, an arm slithered around his waist, pulling him firmly against the being behind him.

"We're going to have fun, Michael," Crowley smirked behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please visit me on Twitter!!
> 
> I love to talk


	4. Tavern Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night has fallen and  
> the Tavern is the only place to go  
> with the children. Nothing goes  
> as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please use the music for a bit more feeling.
> 
> Please enjoy!!
> 
> Also, there is a smidge of sexual things, but nothing overtly there.

**Father Forgive Me**

_Chapter 4_

_Tavern Nights_

**https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi4GsKF9ESkHSlbJjisJyY0z**

Tracey convened in the rear of the tavern, stoking the fires while singing a dark melodic lullaby to the children as they gently slumbered off. It wasn't the most calming of cradlesong, but a truth rang within it, the melody, carrying, mesmerizing. The children's eyes all heavy with sleep, listening to her lilting voice as it lulled them into a night of sleep. Tracey's hair lit by the fireplace, flames of hell burned within the curls on her head, dancing past her waist, as she sat, watching the flames.

Father Ezra caught Tracey's voice luring, coming from the back room. He welcomed the singing, pulling his attention from the death he had seen earlier. Confusion reigned in his mind. Crowley. Starlit blue eyes locked onto the flames of the fire in front of him, considering the fire as it cast its shadows on the walls. Taking hold of Ezra's imagination as he discerned the lights and shadows from the flames chasing each other.

Crowley, dark in his attire, everything an enigma. Ezra smiled without realizing as he thought of himself and Crowley, talking. Crowley's whispers next to his ear, the warmth of his breath near him. Ezra was, God-fearing, an angel incarnate in his people's eyes, but why did he want to know more about the dark one. His thoughts went to the shadows and lights chasing each other in a dance of good and evil.

Gently he raised his fingers to his neck, touching the small prick marks on his neck. Father Ezra took a shuddering breath as his fingers glossed over his neck, his body reacting to the memory, the feeling. Why was he bothered by Crowley's touch, what was Crowley and why was he disappointed when Crowley left him.

Gabriel slept on the second floor of the tavern, tossing and turning as he dozed in and out as the song continued. Dreams that bothered him came and went, as he awoke, glittering green eyes appeared in front of him. Gabriel reached out to her, he had seen her before, only in passing, she was known by the village, and they called her a witch, though it wasn't for certain.

Her eyes always captivated Gabriel, green like the forest but glittering with gold, cast harshly against the long curls of her dark hair. Gabriel knew he wanted her, dreamt of her, but why and how, would Father Ezra let him see her. Would she even see him?

"Anathema," Gabriel whispered quietly to himself.

A deep, slow inhalation calming his nerves, Gabriel slowly drifted back off to sleep with the notes of Tracey's song carrying him. The children all finally asleep; Tracey kept singing as though it calmed her. Ezra finally closed his eyes only to be swept off into a dream that he would not forget.

Crowley heard the song and smirked as he bent Michaels's neck, just a touch further back. Whispering within Michaels's ear, using his power of temptation, the words drifted down Michaels's spine, casting a storm within him. Michael shuddered under the touch of Crowley, his words tempting him, luring him in, erasing fear...filling Michael with want, need.

"Come to my garden, Come play with me...." Crowley whispered, leading Michael back into the woods.

Crowley stopped a ways off from the village, within a fairy circle, the circle of mushrooms blessed by the creatures of the night, the fairies called it home, for now, it was his. Crowley let go of Michael, who stood and turned towards Crowley. Michael smiled as the haze of want glossed over his eyes, reaching up, his hand sliding into Crowley's red locks he pulled, bringing Crowley closer to him.

Crowley knew he had won this exceptional prize and closed the distance between them, his lips brushing over Michaels, slowly letting his forked tongue graze over Michaels's lower lip, tempting him to open. Tasting the fear that had once been there and now had turned into lust, such was Crowley's abilities, it was far too easy.

Michael sighed into the kiss as his lips parted, closing his eyes, giving over to the creature that held him captive. Crowley's hands slid over Michael's back, stopping at the back of his neck, releasing himself from the kiss Crowley tilted Michaels' head back, nosing under Michael's chin, tilted his head up. Michaels neck open, pale under the moonlit, veins thrummed with a quickened pulse.

Crowley let his tongue chase the blood flowing through Michaels's veins, just a moment more, a tilt just a little further back. Michale moaned under the focus of Crowley's touch, his tongue, the bites that didn't break the skin just yet, the moonlight filtered through the trees, casting shadows all around them.

"Please..." Michael whispered out, catching Crowley slightly off-guard yet pleasing him just the same.

"All in good time, Michael, I think I am rather going to enjoy this...perhaps I won't drain you if there is a promise of more before I feed." The wicked smirk that danced over Crowley's mouth was closer to evil than he actually was.

With a spin of Crowley's hand, Michael was turned around and pulled up against Crowley's body. Michael pressed back against Crowley, a slide of his hips, moving on his own accord against Crowley's body, his hands sliding up and down Crowley's thighs. Maybe this night wasn't going to be a complete waste Crowley thought to himself. Michael dropped his head back against Crowley's shoulder, tilting his own head to the side, opening his neck for Crowley.

Crowley let his hands slide over Michaels's body, finally reaching back up to his neck, his head to the side, Crowley kissed the pulse that hammered there. Dragging his fangs over the pale neck before him, blood trickled, staining the white of Crowley's teeth, his tongue lashing out, tasting Michael. Crowley opened his mouth wider, licking the blood from Michaels's neck, going to fully sink his fangs into his neck.

Michael's hands slide behind his arse as he pressed them temptingly against Crowley's pelvis. A bite slightly harder as Michale's hands pressed and squeezed Crowley, an inhale, grounding Crowley. This wasn't the way this usually went, perhaps this was better. Crowley's hand took Michaels away from him, sliding them over Michael's growing erection, rolling his hips into Michael's backside.

"Please.." Michale once again whispered, catching the attention of Crowley, a smirk, a need.

A scent caught Crowleys' attention, perhaps from being in close proximity of Father Ezra, but Crowley could smell him. Shivers ran through his spine as memories ran through his mind. A growl escaping Crowley, golden eyes closed, Ezra's voice singing within his ears. What was this, he needed to make it go away. A moment, as Ezras face danced before his eyes. Need.

Fangs pierced the moonlit skin of Michael's neck, warmth slowly trickled onto his tongue. As Crowley pierced Michael's skin, from behind Crowley, someone hit him on the back of his head. Knocking him from his stance, as unexpected as it was. Turning with a hiss, eyes glowing taking in the area, there in front of him, the witch of the woods. Anathema stood there fearless of Crowley or his kin, holding her own kins cross Crowley smirked. Licking Michael's blood from his lips.

"Anathema, you know that shit doesn't work on me. Why are you such a pain in the ass witch?" Crowley walked sideways, slowly circling her.

"Be gone creature, I won't miss next time. Let him go, he isn't yours." Anathema held her ground. No fear came from her, and Crowley respected her for that. If it were a different time, he would consider her a friend.

"As you wish witch. Don't get cocky, I am only going to put up with your interruptions for so long." Crowley backed away from Michael, shimmering down into a great serpent Crowley vanished, leaving a shaken Michael on the ground.

Anathema rushed to his side, helping him to his feet.

"Hurry boy, before he changes his mind and comes back for you." Anathema continued to half drag, half carry Michael to the tavern.

Slithering could be heard within the leaves that littered the ground from the storm. Anathema stumbled, trying to get Michael to use his feet. Dropping Michael to the ground Anathema, reached under Michael's arms pulling, dragging. Slithering that much closer, Anathema knew that she only had so long to get Michael away before the creature would pounce and take them both.

"Move your feet, boy! Do you want to die?" Anathema struggled; when behind her, the serpent rose.

A clawed hand spun her away from Michael, the claws catching her arm, opening the flesh. Her blood stained the white of her sleeve, standing still, she waited. Lowering herself to the ground, her hands reaching for Michael, grabbing hold of his shirt she pulled. The leaves moving with Michael as Anathema pulled him.

A flick of a tongue startled Anathema, spinning to see where the serpent was coming from. Slithering over her ankles, she turned on her heel as the forked tongue slide against her torn flesh. Grabbing Michael, she continued to pull, now determinedly ignoring the serpent. She was not going to be the prey, not on this night.

Crowley smirked to himself as he watched her struggle. Still, she was a determined one, a witch none the less and even he knew not to drink of her blood. So instead, he watched, tasted, shivering at the taste of her blood. It burned, caused pain, yet her tenacity was beautiful.

Finally, making it to the tavern, Anathema kicked the door open, stumbling inside as she dragged Michael in with her. Her blood staining her shirt, part of her skirt, blood from Michael mingled with her own blood on her hands. Falling back against the floor, she panted, looking to the fire she saw Father Ezra.

The noise of the door slamming opened shook Ezra out of his restless sleep. Grateful for the sudden awakening, the dream he wanted to forget kept playing in his head as he cleared his eyes. Standing quickly, Ezra saw Michael being dragged in by the woman, he raced to her side, seeing all the blood from them, nodding at her he took Michael in his arms.

"Gabriel!" Father Ezra called up the stairs, still holding Michael upright.

Gabriel was having a hard enough time sleeping; he had heard the commotion and had already started down the stair to only stop just as suddenly seeing Anathema. Green eyes looked up the stairs as he stopped the candlelight catching the gold stars within her eyes, he stuttered as he tried to speak.

"An-ant...Anathema, sorry, sorry." Blushing Gabriel rushed past her getting to Michael's side, taking him from Ezra.

Stepping past Anathema, Gabriel inhaled deeply, almost walking into the wall next to the stairs. Vanilla, flowers, and the forest were what Anathema smelled like, everything that was nature and then more, a scent that was innately Anathema. It tickled him and set his spine on fire, he wanted to turn and touch her hair, say hello, something. Instead, Gabriel found his footing as he brought Michael up the stairs.

Anathema smiled as she watched Gabriel go, tilting her head slightly to watch him go up the stairs. Someone clearing their throat shook her back into reality, turning Anathema plastered a smile on her face, as fake as it was she had learned to fake a lot of things. Father Ezra felt her discomfort, so he motioned for her to come sit by the fire, bowing his head just slightly.

"Please, come sit. You seem to require some care as well, and then I need to know what happened to Michael if you would be so kind, my child." Father Ezra always pleasant, always kind, eased her stance, with a subtle nod Anathema walked towards the fire.

The warmth of the fire was more than welcome on her body. Anathemas shoes were wet through from the water and the struggle. Gently touching her arm, she hissed in pain, releasing the wound she knew that the serpent had touched her with its tongue. This wound would need more than a father could take care of.

Father Ezra sat down next to her, offering a cloth for her arm, making no forward movement on her, afraid she would scare off. Emerald green eyes lit by the firelight gleamed with hints of gold twinkling within, her dark hair, wet from the rain still held curls. Hair held onto Anathemas' forehead, dirt and torn leaves covered her, and Ezra took all of it in.

"My dear, please take the cloth, and if you would be so kind, what happened to you? What happened to Michael, please, my child." Ezra was to the point that he didn't see any reason to try to comfort Anathema. She didn't need them.

Anathema cautiously took the cloth, pressing it to her arm, a grimace finding home on her face, her eyes looking to Ezras blue. Adjusting herself, she sat a touch closer to the fire, warming herself, tying off the cloth, both hands now held out at the fire. Tracey quietly came out with a warm drink for Anathema, they knew each other, and Anathema nodded in thanks.

"The creature found him, Michael, you said? You should know better than be in the woods at night, alone, especially now." Anathema looked into the fire, never paying mind to Ezra just talking.

"He is lucky I found him when I did, he would have been just as dead as the others." Plainly without prejudice, without empathy, Anathema talked as though in shock, but more so that she had seen this a thousand times.

"What creature? Is it the same as those that killed the families?" Ezra sat a bit closer to the fire as well, Anathema looked at him, then down his throat seeing the barely-there punctures.

"You have seen him, why he did not finish you, I do not know. He will be back for you, and for Michael, he finishes what he starts." Anathema shrugged, holding her tea within her cold hands, sipping gingerly.

"Do you mean Crowley? But he is just a man with a strange sense of reality." Anathema smirked at the Father's comment.

"You think he is alone, Father? Oh, there are many others. He just tries to hold on to some of his humanity, or I wouldn't have made it back here." Anathema nodded as if agreeing with herself.

"You shall see, you are marked, he is not done with you. None of them are. This is just the beginning, and you all are going to have to catch up." Closing her eyes, Anathema took in the heat of the fire, thankful for safety, for she knew she would be here for the evening."

"Will Michael be okay?" Anathema opened her eyes and looked at Ezra.

"I don't know, I interrupted him, you'll have to watch. Now, if you don't mind, I need to sleep." Without further talking, asking or answering Anathema got up, grabbing a blanket that Tracey had left out for her and went to the second floor.

Anathema stopped looking in at Gabriel, trying to snap Michale out of his stupor. Smiling as she watched, Anathema leaned in the doorframe. Chuckling as Michael was reaching up for Gabriel, and Gabriel slapping wandering hands away from him.

"You know that he will have to sleep that off, he doesn't see you, he sees only what he desires right now. Ask him, he'll tell you anything right now." Anathema smirk at the startled response from Gabriel, and then the nod as yet Michael's hands were slapped away again.

"Michael, what do you want." Gabriel slapped at Michael's hands again.

"Ezra." Michale groaned, rolling over.

Gabriel growled in disgust, looking back at Anathema, who looked surprised as well.

"Well, he's got lofty ideas." Anathema chuckled, walking into the room and curling up in a chair, covering herself with the blanket.

Gabriel watched as Anathema shut her eyes, letting her head fall back against the chair, hair the color of night fell in damp curls to the floor. Gabriel stood in disbelief that she was this close, how he wanted to reach out and touch her, run his fingers through her hair, love her.

"Gabriel, they said, right? Well, keep me safe tonight, will you?" Anathema smiled, releasing a breath she had been holding since rescuing Michael.

Gabriel nodded, of course, he would protect her, always. He watched as she fell into a slumber, how her breathing changed, deepened, slower, calmer. Anathema was more beautiful than the stars in the sky, she was the most beautiful creature God had ever created, and here he was watching her.

Crowley growled outside of the tavern, seeing in the windows, seeing Ezra. What was with this Father, why had they sent him to deal with him. Watching, as Anathema explained, told him what though, what did she explain, why did Crowley care. Worry something he hadn't felt in year coursed through his veins. More so, the taste of Ezra entered his thoughts.

Father Ezra watched as Anathema left, turning towards the window he went to one that overlooked the village. What had they come across, what was truly going on here and what did Anathema mean by there was more? Calling them creatures, Ezra knew he needed more information, the worry of when Crowley was going to come back for him, but why,

Golden eyes glowed from a distance watching Ezra, wanting him. Crowley's fun was interrupted for the evening, just a tease of what was to come, and here was what he wanted just behind that glass. Ezra could have been a thousand miles away, or an inch, Crowley knew he wasn't going to be getting him on this night.

Turning to leave and go back to his room, his tomb, how he hated that room. The same place as when he was turned so long ago, and the night that ended his humanity. Crowley heard the click fo the tavern door, listened to the footsteps that came out. Then he heard Ezra's voice, barely a whisper, directed at him.

"Crowley, leave Michael alone, if you are to come for someone, you come for me, not an innocent." Ezra was being braver than he felt, and Crowley could taste it on the wind as he flicked his tongue.

Crowley smirked as he turned to look at the Father, glowing in the moonlight. Watching, a flick of his tongue, he could taste the fear, feel the confusion, but underlying want. That wasn't an expected delight though it brightened his mood considerably. So it was to be a game then father Crowley thought to himself.

"As you wish Father, I'll play your little game...I always win." Crowley whispered onto the night's air.

Father Ezra felt something, as though he was being watched. He felt the fear in him bubble over as he stepped back, grabbing the door handle, turning in. Ready to run, prepared to close the night out forever. Standing his ground, he heard something, an answer on the breeze, a voice that filtered through all other noise.


	5. Crowleys Bee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night has fallen, what  
> will our group do at the tavern. Will  
> Does Michael survive? What will happen?

**Father Forgive Me**

_Chapter 5_

_Crowley's Bee_

**https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi7c5_G5v14V6gXRCT9rSOgj**

Crowley made his way back to his tomb, the room in which his humanity indeed ended so many years ago. The night was coming to an end, again. Colors of the morning were slowly illuminating the night sky, taking over where night should end. Slithering up the tower, he entered his room the same way he would leave it. Alone. Escaping the others by any means necessary. Dropping from his own window to depart and disappearing into the night.

Avoiding the others that called themselves his family, those that had simply moved into his home and taken his life. Taken more than they would ever admit to, never discussing what happened when they did. Crowley's form shimmering back into what he knew best, tall, hair in cascading waves of red. Pulled back slightly, just to the back, letting the rest play among the breeze. Golden eyes, tainted by the change, not human, but reptilian, seeing far more than anyone should.

Crowley walked to the door, making sure it was locked. The noises of those returning echoed through the halls of his home. Sounds that he wished he wouldn't hear anymore, whimpers, cries, the dragging of a body, life slowly ebbing away.

Resting his head against the mahogany door, something he was so proud of long ago, now old, dusty. His care of this world had left him long ago, running his tongue over his lips, the remaining taste of Michael seared his thoughts. Need filled him, turning, he threw himself down on his bed, looking up and following the ceiling's lines.

Raising his hand to his face, he noticed a single drop of blood there. Perfect, a drop, not enough, not tainted, but having not moved from where it landed. Crowley thought it was Michaels, of course, it had to be. Crowley hadn't had enough on this night, so letting his tongue flick out at the blood, it disappeared into his mouth as his tongue carried it.

Shaded golden eyes closed. Closing his mouth around his tongue, a sudden fire burned through his spine. Unexpected, memories of her danced across his vast mind, hands twisting into the bedclothes, her face, her happiness, and then blood. So much blood, falling, falling into memories of old. Tears ran down his cheeks, the bite, the change, the need for more. Hungry.

Crowley's creator left him to his own devices after he changed, not knowing there was an innocent within his home. Someone that had calmed his beating heart, her scent made him live. Plans so many plans they had made, they were only beginning. The flash of light crossed his mind. Her face bright, loving as he stumbled back in, following that same scent to her.

Azira, his love, ran to him with her arms outstretched, her scent, living, filling. Arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her in, her scent filling his nose as the hunger grew. New eyesight showed her blood flowing through her veins, tempting him, calling him. Inside his mind screaming to stop as his hand slid into her platinum curls, soft, fragrant.

Crowley pulled her head back, her pale neck open, and Azira's sudden gasp as fangs dug deep into her neck. Drinking, swallowing her life as Crowley ate, his humanity dying with a whimper. Her gasp, that last sound she made as her life was drunk away by Crowley. Red staining her white bedclothes, her platinum hair dripping.

Crowley pulled his head back, the realization dawning on him as hunger left. Dropping to his knees with her in his arms. Crowley could hear his pleads and begging to come back, but the pitter-patter of the blood drops were louder than his screams. Falling to the floor, pulling her into his arms, Crowley curled his body around her. Let him die here with her, please Crowley thought to himself if there is a god, let me die.

Crowley laid with her on the floor of the very room he now was still forced to reside in. Sitting up in the bed, he looked at the rug on the floor. Under the carpet, Crowley knew her stain was still there. The only proof of what he had done, the only evidence of her. The stain, where he had taken her life, the first of many lives he would take throughout the years.

Pulling in on himself, he rocked, trying to forget the past, but as he did and closed his eyes, a single thought appeared. Ezra. Crowley blinked as he thought of him. Looking at the spot on his hand, he realized that the blood was his. Ezras' blood brought memories, as did his scent.

Crowley sat back and closed his eyes, thinking of all he had already seen of the Father. The platinum hair that curled and bounced around on a smile that seemed it was from God. The way that the light ignited that hair into a halo around his head. The way his scent drove him to distraction even when feeding on Michael, why was he not afraid of him. Brave Father to come out and challenge something he didn't understand.

Who would send Crowley after this Father? Other than being loved by his people, what had he done? Crowley needed to find out more about this and why he was sent. Most of all, Crowley wanted to see Ezra again; he needed to be sure, wanted to know what was happening to him.

A long dragged out sigh left Crowley's lips as a sudden breeze whipped his hair around his face. Eyes flying open landing on one of the smaller family members, one of the few that Crowley loved, as well as he could love, perhaps actually considered family. Crowley lovingly called her Bee. Little, faster than the rest, and always seemingly buzzing about the property.

Crowley could always find Bee out at the gardens, laying within the flowers, tucking them into her hair. A smile crossed Crowley's face looking at the small one.

"You know Bee, knocking is nice. I, well, I could have had someone in here." Crowley tilted his head, trying to hide the smirk.

"You never bring anyone here, you live in this one room and if I knocked you wouldn't answer anyway." Bee wasn't wrong, rather, spot on.

Crowley nodded in agreement, her argument couldn't be argued. Sitting in a chair and pulling up a bottle of red wine, Crowley still enjoyed, motioned for Bee to have a seat with him and share a glass. Bee smiled, walking over to Crowley, taking a seat on the back of a chair, perched more like a bird than anything else.

Tilting his head, Crowley watched, shaking his head. "Someday, will you sit like a normal person, please." Crowley handed a glass to her.

"Nope, never, I am not normal anymore, and it brings back things I don't want to think on." Bee took a sip of the wine, scrunching her nose at the taste.

Crowley smirked, "Sing for me, Bee, it's been a long night." Bee straightened her shoulders. After her change, her voice became hauntingly beautiful. Her songs calmed him. Her little voice haunted him, bringing feelings he had long since forgotten. Human.

Crowley feigned being offended by the gesture that the wine wasn't any good, he knew it was. Bee chuckled at him as she sang, still sipping away at the wine that they had never had before when they were human. Crowley was there when they brought Bee back with them, heard the cries of a child, the cries pulled at him. Children were never allowed to be taken, but some didn't care.

The cries tugged and pulled him from his room. As the door opened into the ornate hallway of his home, his eyes locked on to the child, small, whimpering, bleeding out, streaks dragging behind her. Walking out, Crowley grabbed hold of Bee, warning the other off, this was wrong. There was no fight to be had, whether Crowley wanted to admit it or not, the others feared him, he was one of the first that the creator made.

Crowley brought Bee into his room, placing her in his bed, he sat and waited. There was nothing he could do to help, the child was either going to live, die, or change. Days and nights went on, and on, and a week later, Bee woke. Not as a child anymore but as something else, something that was never supposed to be. Crowley kept Bee in his care, eventually garnering her own room next to his.

Bee was the only one of the house that had permission to enter Crowley's room, whenever they wanted. Which much to the regrets of Crowley was quite often. Bee was the closest thing that Crowley had to family anymore, a reason for living, a reason for not opening those curtains, and being devoured by the light of the sun.

Bee could see Crowley becoming lost in his own thoughts, it was never a good idea for Crowley to become lost. The house would kill Bee if Crowley was no longer there. Bee could stay in the light, in the dark and didn't need to feed on humans. Though animals were a different story, Bee would go on binges, and the people of different villages would think the plague had found their animals, but it was just Bee.

"Crowley, Crowley, come back, please!" Bee hopped off the back of the chair, snapping their little fingers in front of Crowley's face, bringing him back with a smile and a swat of her tiny hands.

"Sorry, I can't figure something out, by chance in your meanderings have you heard anything about a Father Ezra Fell? I am meant to either change him or kill him, and I really don't know why." Crowley looked to Bee, who shrugged her song long since stopped, climbing up into his lap.

"I can keep my ears open, Crow, if you want. The only thing I did hear was something about him being from before." Bee curled into a small ball in Crowley's lap, resting her head against his chest.

"You know, Crow, if you ever leave, you'd take me, yeah? You wouldn't leave me here, right?" Bee looked up, her eyes something more angelic than creature shined brightly up into his.

Crowley slid his glasses off, placing them next to them, Bee cuddled into him as his arms wrapped around her. Crowley had become more than a friend, more than a protector, Bee remembered what it was to have a father, and Crowley had become it. After years with Crowley, the bond only grew stronger between them.

"Of course I will Bee, I would never leave you behind. See what you can find out little one, stay safe, but for now, I need to sleep."

Crowley's golden eyes closed, Bee watched and let her head rest, finding comfort within Crowley's arms. Safety, love. This was where Bee flourished; within Crowley's graces, he had taught her everything she would need to know. The others didn't know what powers Bee held, with a thought, she could switch, and kill them all.

Walking in the light was only one of her many gifts. Crowley had always thought it had something to do with her being a child when they changed her, her mind was still open to everything, learning, seeing, growing. The only one more powerful than Bee was himself, and they both knew it. Keeping things calm in the house and within the family was all that truly mattered.

One upset vampiric family could wipe out a village. The house, not following rules, could be the end of all of them, and now with Father Ezra, something was amiss. Some things didn't make sense to Crowley. As sleep finally took Crowley and Bee, he dreamed, of Azira and Ezra, both taking turns in his dream and changing places at different times. One and the same, Crowley felt happiness.

Ezra had backed himself back into the tavern, heading up the stairs to check on Michael. Walking in quietly, he saw Gabriel sitting in a chair between Michael and Anathema, but his eyes were only for Anathema. Ezra saw it, it couldn't be helped, Gabriel was of an age of marriage and love. Ezra knew he needed to let him go, and if Anathema was what he desired, he would have his blessing.

God made all creatures, and all should be loved equally, even in sin. Ezra walked to check on Michael, his hand reaching down to move the sweat stuck hair from his forehead with a sigh. Turning Michael's head, he saw the bite, still oozing, as his fingers went to brush over it Michael's eyes opened, seeing what he desired most, Ezra.

Michael sat up straight on the bed, his hands reaching for Ezra. Trying to back away, Michael caught Ezra's hands, pulling him down and to him. Eye to eye, Ezra started calling for Gabriel.

"Gabriel, Gabriel...help please!" Ezra pulled back against the grip that Michael had on his wrists.

Falling forward, Ezra landed haphazardly over the bed as Michael's hands tried to roam, desperately tried to turn Ezra's face towards him. Gabriel, hearing the cries of Ezra, stood, grabbing Ezra around the waist and pulling him away from Michael, only to hear the growl that left Michael's lips. Gabriel walked up to Michael, who was still reaching for Ezra and punched him.

Michael collapsed back against the bed, Gabriel turning to check on Ezra, who was grasping at his chest. Anathema had startled awake and came to stand in front of Ezra, blocking Michael's view. The group stood in silence for a moment.

"What in Heaven's name was that all about?" Ezra was concerned, shaken, and without knowing why angry for being touched.

"Gabriel, I don't think he is going to be okay." Anathema looked between the two men, her eyes finally falling back to Michale, who was silent.

"You know more than you have told us Anathema? Please, what is happening?" Ezra and Gabriel looked to her for answers anything that would help.

"He's been bitten, maybe I was too late, or maybe it was wanted?" Anathema looked at Michale, confusion crossing her brow for a mere moment before green eyes locked with Gabriel.

"Bitten by what Anathema? What are we dealing with? An animal?" Gabriel asked her, his eyes easily read by Anathema, who blushed slightly.

"No, Gabriel, not an animal, but something that used to be a man." Anathema looked at Michael, who slowly started to move on the bed as fever set in.

"You need to get him back to your cathedral, away from here, or, he is going to want more of what I interrupted." Anathema looked at them both, gathering her belongings, she headed out the door looking back at Gabriel with a smile.

"I think it best if I am with Tracey, somehow this just became inappropriate," Anathema smirked, bowing her head, leaving the two men to look confused and with Gabriel having a stupid smile on his face that Ezra rolled his eyes too.

Father Ezra knelt by Michael with Gabriel watching, lowering his head, he said a prayer to God, for this lost child. Standing, Ezra turned to Gabriel.

"As soon as the sun comes up we need to go back, we'll carry the children if need be and see if we can borrow the cart for Michael. This village has something wrong with it, it needs to be prayed on, cleansed. I don't see how a man can cause this, I can do more reading on it at home, I need my books." Ezra talked mainly to himself as though going over a list, and Gabriel just nodded, finding his chair and collapsing into it, watching Ezra leave going back downstairs to the fire.

Ezra sat in his chair, watching the fire, eyes growing heavy as a sleep set in. Dreams came quickly to him, something from long ago. A scene from someone else's eyes filled his thoughts, a river, a house, and then a hallway. Blinking within his dream, he saw a room, happiness flooded him and then nothing, darkness.

Dreams came and went through the rest of the night, and much to father Ezras worry, Crowley. His mind went over the meeting in the village that Ezra kept to himself, hearing his words and feeling his breath against his face. Ezra slept restlessly until the morning light shined through the windows, and Tracey's gentle hand awoke him.

As angelic blue eyes opened meeting Traceys, she smiled, handing him a coffee to help wake up. Ezra took it with a nod of thanks watching as Tracey got the children food and prepared them for the journey back. Shadwell had already left, collecting the bodies of the fallen, gathering them for a pyre that Father Ezra would pray upon as they were respected and guided back to their maker.

Ezra headed up the stairs bringing a coffee for Gabriel, making sure he was awake and ready to travel. Stopping as soon as he entered, Gabriel was there in his chair, still asleep, soundly but Michael was gone. Ezra shook Gabriels' shoulder, pointing at Michael's empty bed, both looking around the room.

The window open, and Michael was gone. What could go wrong next as Anathema came upstairs? All three looked at one another and the empty bed that was in the room. Regardless, Ezra needed to get back to the Cathedral, he needed his books, he needed a reason. Ezra needed the safety and security of his lord and Cathedral, and this village wasn't it.


	6. Dreams of Old but New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival to an empty Cathedral.  
> Dreams of old mixed with the new, what will  
> Ezra do?

**Chapter Six**

_Dreams of Old and New_

**https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi6wjhPDWgE-15G30YaEF2sf**

Chimes gently blew in the morning's breeze, the warmth of the sun filtering into the opened window.

Gabriel stood looking at Ezra and then back out of the open window, knowing for a fact that he had shut and locked the window the night before. Turning to look at Ezra and Anathema, nothing was said, all was quiet, quickly Gabriel closed the window, blotting out most of the sunlight that filtered in. Father Ezra looked saddened as he glanced over the empty bed, seeing the small drops of blood from Michael that littered the floor, heading straight for the window.

Gabriel came to Ezra's side, embracing Ezra in a hug, reassurance was what they needed. Anathema watched, a slight smile, as realization slowly came over her that she was not in danger with them. The group gathered their belongings, borrowing a cart to help get the children back to the Cathedral. Loading the children in, a smile and hug to each Tracey made sure they knew they were loved.

Tracey bundled the children, giving each one food and drink for their journey to the Cathedral. Surely they would make it before dark and perhaps run into a few villagers on their way back home. Ezra asked Shadwell to board up the fallen houses, and he would be back tomorrow to finish their last rights and help make the pyre.

Tracey and Shadwell watched as they left, the children waving goodbye, sorrow filling their innocent eyes, knowing that their lives were forever changed. Anathema tagged along, staying somewhat closer to Gabriel than anyone else, every now and then chiming up with a question, testing the waters of safety with them both.

Father Ezra couldn't help but stay silent, so many questions, Michael missing, the night before when Crowley was beside him. The storm, Crowley suddenly appearing having been told to go to him, Michael missing, the dead parents, the bites, what was all of this. Perhaps Anathema could answer questions for him once they arrived at the Cathedral, and Ezra had Gabriel show Anathema to her room if she chose to stay.

The light of the sun filtered through the trees, shining down upon the children as they dozed on and off. Warmth finally crept into Ezra's body, the cold of the previous night wearing off, a sigh left him listening to the river babbling next to the road they traveled. Opening his eyes, the light catching the blue, shining off the starlit colors that dwelled there caught Anathema's attention.

Never having seen eyes the color of Ezra, she stared perhaps a bit too long. "Are you alright, my dear?"

"Your eyes are rare." Anathema plainly stated for she was not intimidated, nor did she embarrass easily, though Gabriel, she noted, had her cheeks flush.

"Oh, are they? I never really noticed. What makes my eyes rare, truthfully they're just blue." Ezra kept walking next to the cart, looking down at the children every now and again.

"They hold stars." Anathema shrugged.

"Stars? How so?" Ezra was now intrigued. Getting Anathema to talk was the perfect way to spend the time. As the silence was becoming deafening.

"Blue they are, but within are stars, they sparkle in the light, colors of the heavens are hidden there. Even your aura is not your own, for there are two if not more auras." Anathema walked closer to Gabriel.

Gabriel smiled at Anathema, offering his free arm to her. Holding the reins of the pack mule who towed the children. Looking from Gabriel's eyes to his arm, Anathema nervously smiled as she took her hand, gently placing it in the crook of Gabriel's arm. Gabriel looked ahead of them, a feeling of warmth cascading over him, his heart fluttered at her touch, her scent intoxicating.

Father Ezra smirked watching the two, maybe something good would come of this, Gabriel needed to find his soulmate, and Ezra felt he had. Watching the river next to the sparkle like diamonds in the sunshine, Ezra thought on what Anathema had said, bringing nothing but more questions.

"Anathema, what do you mean auras? Can you tell me more?" Ezra looked over.

"I would prefer not. I tend to be called a witch because of such words, and I like myself without melted flesh and burnt bones." Anathema kept looking at Gabriel, each time a smile played upon her lips.

"Oh no, my dear, I would never. I do not believe in all that, all were created by our Lord, and she would never make a mistake." Ezra picked up a shiny white stone-throwing it gingerly into the river.

"Is that so, her, you see the Lord as a female then? Isn't that against everything we were all taught?" Anathema, now fully invested in the conversation, waited.

"Oh, my dear. It doesn't matter whether you see the Lord as her or as he as long as you believe. I believe the Lord to be female. To have created all this, to have given birth, if you will, too all of us. No male would have done that. I believe she is one and both." Ezra tucked one of the children in as they slept, noticing the sun slowly descending.

"Well, that was unexpected, be careful father with what you say, that could be blasphemy!" Anathema spoke her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Anathema, my congregation, know what I believe, and they believe as I do. You are quite safe. Now do tell me about auras." Ezra was observing the sun, judging how much longer they had to go. Being caught out here in the dark wouldn't be wise.

Anathema started to speak, but as the children woke, hungry and thirsty, needing love having lost their parents. Gabriel continued to guide the cart as Anathema and Ezra took care of the little ones. Little hands being gently kissed before handing them their food, a pat on the head, or a kiss on the cheek, the two took care of them.

Anathema noticed the sun falling, the sky turning into purples and pinks. Staying close to the cart, a hand on the edge, another holding to the back of Gabriel's shirt, her eyes darting around the forest edge. The night was coming, and there was no safety here. Ezra noticed the fright that was in Anathemas' eyes.

"Anathema, do you know any songs you could sing, to keep the children and us alert and to take away from the silence, my dear?" Ezra was hopeful; they only had a short while to go before they were safely in the Cathedral.

"I know a few Father, but may I inquire as to how much further we have to go?" Anathema looked over the children who waited expectantly for a song.

"Not much further, my dear, maybe thirty minutes if we keep going. I am surprised we haven't seen any of the villagers." Ezra noted that they, in fact, had seen none on the way back.

Anathema took a deep breath, clearing her throat and calming her nerves, not wanting to frighten or alarm the children. Anathema smiled lovingly at them all. Tilting her head as she decided which song to sing, and with that music floated and danced upon the air. A voice of an angel, comforting, melodic, and Anathema sang. The children listening and watching her as though she was magic.

Gabriel listened to Anathemas' voice, her sound caressing his ears, and joyfully playing against his tympanic membrane. A smile that Ezra had never seen on Gabriel decided to move in and take up home on Gabriel's lips. Ezra knew Gabriel was done, this was his soulmate, Ezra would not stop the pairing, he would just sit back and wait and watch.

The children sitting up in the cart watched Anathema, a little hand reaching out. Anathema reached in, picking up the little one holding them as she sang, carrying them. Little eyes wide as her words tickled them, her voice magical in its own right, Ezra could feel it. Anathema was, in fact, a witch made by God and of the Earth.

Ezra walked in silence listening to Anathemas beauty float on the air, the forest seemingly becoming, magical as they walk. Birds flying by, stopping in the branches near them, their song twirling in with Anathemas. The air itself felt full of magic, Ezra could feel eyes watching them, watching her as she sang. Thanking the Lord as he saw the Cathedral coming into view.

Tall and strong, the Cathedral loved by Ezra came closer as they walked, their safety guaranteed as they finally reached their destination. All was silent, nobody was there, no one to greet them, Ezra found it strange, leaving the two to watch the children he walked to the front doors, pushing them open. Finding the Cathedral empty.

Walking back out to Gabriel and Anathema, Aziraphale had the look of a worried man. Nothing was right here, where did they all go?

"Gabriel, it's empty." Ezra looked at him, seeing him rush past him to the empty Cathedral.

"Where did they all go, this is impossible," Gabriel said, confusion running over his countenance.

Branches and leaves rustled somewhere nearby enough for Anathema to hear it, rushing to get the children out of the cart and into the Cathedral.

"We need to get inside, the night isn't safe." Anathema gathered the children pressing them into the Cathedral.

All the candles and torches were lit, and the Cathedral was the same as when they left it. Gabriel walked to the altar, looking at the floor around it, blood had been spilled. Ezra walked Anathema over to the bedroom next to his, close enough, so all were within ears reach. Gabriel motioned for Ezra to come to him, pointing at the floor.

Ezra looked his eyes widening, seeing the pool of blood surrounding the base of the altar. Glancing at Gabriel, neither having an answer to what had happened. The horror of the blood didn't stop there. Following the droplets, they both came to a pool of blood that filled the floor in the back of where Father Ezra gave his sermons.

"Gabriel, I think perhaps given what we are seeing, and we cannot get back to the tavern, you should stay in the room with Anathema and the children. I will stay in mine, I need to do some research."

Father Ezra looked at Gabriel, who nodded in agreement. Ezra would explain to Anathema that it was needed and why, but once the children were fed and asleep, to come to his room for he had questions that perhaps she could answer.

Ezra opened the door to his room, stepping inside. He caught his breath, closing the door and resting his head against it. What was truly going on here, the confusion was overwhelming, a turn of the key Ezra locked his door. Turning towards his many books, he plopped down in his favorite armchair within the room.

Letting his head fall back against the chair, he could feel the fire warming him. Inhaling deeply, the slow release of air along with the tension of the day. Ezra's vast mind calculated everything he had seen, all he had heard. Eyes opened, flashing the blue starlight against the colors of the firelight. Standing Ezra reached for a book, the book that was forbidden, yet here he was looking into it.

Placing the book on the table in front of his char, Ezra flipped through page after page of forbidden magics, forbidden beings. Until he came across a page that held a picture that looked like a man. As Ezra read, deeper into the man that was presented. Ezra learned that the man shown was the undead, that there were creatures that roamed the Earth, living off the blood of others.

No proof of these beings, only rumors, stories, lullabies to scare children, so they behaved for their parents. Ezra looked at the picture that was drawn so many years ago, in a book that was given to him by another father. Keep it hidden, keep it safe, but the book had all of the knowledge Ezra would need. Feeding on blood and turning others into them, they had no name yet, for they were creatures of the night.

Creatures ruled over by Lillith, tamer of the beasts of the night and forever banned from heaven, never to be looked upon again, except those of Hell.

Ezra held the book on his lap, letting his head rest again, it was a long day, and he was tired. Losing Michael, everything weighed on the Father's shoulders, his eyes begrudgingly closed, and that was when Ezra came alive. Dreams started to wash over him, each one with Crowley, always a step away, but he dreamed.

Night fell, and the creatures of the night left their home, Crowley's home, to hunt and feed. Crowley had one person on his mind, even though he needed to feed it could wait, at least a little while. Michael squatted in a tree, just high enough to see into Ezra's room, watching as that head of platinum blonde curls tilted back, showing his pale neck. Michael followed the blood flow that he could see now.

Not truly turned but thirsting just the same, and his longing for Ezra only made stronger by the blood that had accidentally been transferred to him from Crowley when Anathema had hit him in the head. A single drop maybe more but enough to drive Michael into a frenzy. He found his way back to the Cathedral the night before and all that fresh blood, all those trusting villagers. Michael fed.

Bee followed Crowley as he had asked, looking in to check on the Father. Bee smaller faster came across Michael first; the smell of so much blood drew her to him. Stopping before he noticed she held her hand up for Crowley, he saw, as she spoke, Crowley could hear her in his mind.

"Who is this, he is wrong Crowley, what happened?" Bee looked on, knowing full well what was wrong, what wasn't allowed.

"The witch interrupted me, I don't know how that happened, but what is he so focused on? Can you see it?" Crowley had stayed back some; being larger, it would be easier to see him.

Bee went higher, silently over Michael's head, she looked, and she saw. Bees' first thoughts were how bad this was going to end, but as she looked in the window from her perch, she saw Ezra. Bee took in the platinum curls, the rosy cheeks, perfectly pink lips, and Ezra's general overtures of being human.

"That father you mentioned Crowley, I think we have a problem, that's who he is focused on, I can smell it on him, lust...it's not good." Bee quickly flipped back, returned to Crowley.

Growling lowly, Bee could feel the possessiveness of Crowley in regards to the Father, she knew this was going to be bloody. Holding onto Crowley's arm, breaking his concentration on Michael, he looked at her.

"If you do this without thinking, we both will die Crowley. I can keep an eye on the Father for you. There is a lady in a room with children, I can just wander in, they won't 'question. If you do this now, you will get the Father killed as well, you know what will happen if this is found out."

Bee let go of Crowley's arm.

"He's dreaming, I can feel it. You know how to enter a dream, I'll watch you, keep you safe, and figure out what you need, too."

Bee winked at him, causing Crowley to roll his eyes at her, but she wasn't wrong either. Drifting into one of Ezra's dreams would be helpful, at least get some answers. Crowley nodded his head and quickly went into the bell tower, as he entered the main Cathedral he noticed there was no one here.

Stopping to take in the emptiness, it dawned on him, Michael. Crowley would have to worry about that later, but he needed to get into Ezra's dream, warn him, find out more about him, see him. Somehow Crowley longed to see him, pulled towards his light, his purity, something there that he needed. Crowley hated it.

Bee watched Michael his longing for Ezra was evident to her, she could sense it, the problem was she could feel it bordering on dangerous, deadly, Michael was heading towards a frenzied state. That would be Ezra's end and not in a lovely way, not in a way to change him but one to have him become one with him.

Crowley had found his space in the rafters above Ezra's room, it wasn't exactly comfortable, but Crowley had been in worse. From below Crowley could already feel Ezra's presence, his divinity flowed from him, drawing Crowley to his light like a moth to a flame. Laying down, Crowley rested his head on his hands, taking a deep breath, slowly releasing it, letting his eyes close, his only thought was that of Ezra.

Bee noticed when Michael started to move towards Ezra's window, she knew she had to stop him. Quickly jumping to the ground below, she silently looked up, spinning with her arms out, a child to Michael's vision. Smiling, she waited, Michael would be easily contained, for he hadn't entirely changed; he was something in between.

Michael's eyes narrowed, zooming in on the child below, a song flowing into his mind, she sang, an evil grin crossing his lips, fresh blood, innocent, sweet. Slowly descending from the tree thinking Bee had no idea he was there, stopping just behind the brush watching her. Bee's image, beauty, an angel spun, her hair flowing around her, mesmerizing as she sang.

In her mind, Bee sang, to keep Michael's attention, he would hear but not realize that it was only for him to hear. Her song carried to him, taking his breath, calming his soul. Michael sat back on his heels watching as Bee grew closer, her song mesmerizing, drawing, the beauty within Michael's mind. Closer and closer until she was within arms reach. Michael reached for her.

Bee smirked before turning around as Michael's hand gripped her small arm, as she turned her countenance changed. Fangs grew, her eyes melded into bright orbs of grey flame, sparkling with blue stars. Tiny hands gripped onto Michale's shoulders as his eyes widened, not expecting the child to be more than him. Eyes locked between Bee and Michael, a tilt of his head as he still heard her song, though her lips didn't move.

Fangs glistened under the moonlight, pure white. Small yet as he watched her face change into something else. Pulling Michael closer her song rang in his head, Bee moved his hair, seeing the blood that covered him, she knew what it was. She knew this was the one that the witch had interrupted him with, and now they had a problem. Killing him would be far too easy, and Crowley hadn't given her permission to kill anything.

With a frown, a tilt of her childish features, her hair bobbed as Micheal looked at her. Mesmerized by the child in front of him. Bee pulled Michael's head down quickly into her knee, the sound slightly sickening as bone hit her knee. Collapsing to the ground, Bee pulled Michael up into the tree, adjusting him so she could comfortably lean back and wait for Crowley. Bee had made the way clear for him, her master, her father, her friend for Crowley she would always protect.

Crowley counted his breaths he took, counting them, lulling himself to dream, to think of the man that was below him. Thinking of the platinum curls, so soft against his cheek when he spoke to him. The way he had no fear of Crowley was engaging, vexatious, bothersome yet drawing Crowley into his light.

Feeling the pull, the lure of Ezra's light Crowley quickly found his way into Ezra's dream. Light fading in and out, almost looking at photographs of Ezra's life.

Finally, Crowley's feet landed with a dream where Ezra was sitting in a chair, looking out over his books. A single book residing on Ezra's lap, confusion easily read on his face as Crowley watched. Crowley simply watched as pictures floated around and by him of Ezra's life.

Ezra looked at the blank pages of the book, the book of his life. Pages filled from before that he didn't recognize, but he felt them. Then flipping forward, he saw nothing, his life of love left him with nothing.

Sighing Ezra closed the book, looking behind him, feeling Crowley's presence, he had felt it before and within that book. Crowley stood still never having been actually seen by anyone within a dream, this was new.

Ezra took a step forward, his hand reaching out to see if Crowley was real. Crowley held a breath that wasn't needed, especially within a dream. Ezra's hand finally touched upon Crowley's chest, a sigh leaving Ezra.

"Are you really here, are you real?" Ezra pressed his hand, feeling a heartbeat that shouldn't exist, but this was a dream.

Crowley placed his hand over Ezras, he felt the shock, the feeling of electricity running through his spine.

"I am, but why can you see me?"

"I don't know, what are you, why are you here?"

Crowley took a step closer, making Ezra look up into questioning eyes. Crowley looked down into the crystalline eyes sparkling within the light of Ezra's dream. Something pulling, something bringing Crowley to need Ezra.

"What's your full name, Ezra? Ezra is a shortened name...please tell me." Crowley tilted his head as he took in Ezra's eyes, his face landing firmly, watching perfectly pink pouting lips as they spoke.

"Aziraphale, it's rather old fashioned, but my parents were religious and felt I needed an angellic name." Aziraphale blushed slightly as he answered, looking away from Crowley's eyes.

Crowley sighed, hearing the name, he remembered that name from so long ago, it couldn't be, but here it was. Aziraphale was here, right in front of him, not the same but still one and the same. Crowley couldn't let go of the thought of who Aziraphale really was.

Aziraphale's smell, light, and being was something Crowley hadn't craved in hundreds of years, yet here was everything in front of him. All of it Crowley remembered, all of Azirapahle was just in another form, he could feel it. Crowley needed it, but why did they send him to destroy Aziraphale, could he actually do it?

Aziraphale looked up again, locking with Crowley's eyes, the flush in his cheeks the color of sunset, the rest landing squarely on the bridge of Crowley's nose. Crowley sighed, his overall stature, relaxed, Aziraphale could feel it.

As Aziraphale went to speak, Crowley tilted his head, tilting Aziraphale head up. Crowley's fingers under his chin, his lips brushing over Aziraphale's. A light gasp left Aziraphale's lips, feeling the warmth that now brushed over his own.

Aziraphale wanted to pull away; he was a man of God, wasn't he. Wasn't this just another of his dreams, his dreams were of want of need. Lonely, his dreams always alone, as was his life, couldn't he act of his needs in his dreams, it wasn't real, right?

Aziraphale let his lips part, air leaving them, pressing up into the kiss, Crowley slid his hand into soft platinum curls, holding, guiding Aziraphale's head into a deeper kiss.

It was then as their lips touched, and Aziraphale let go of his concerns and his ties to everything he knew that his light took over the dream. Pictures of things started to become them.

A hand guiding Aziraphale's head, finger tightened within his hair, sighing as he let the other control him. Another picture became them, the feeling of hands over his bare back.

Crowley lost himself with the picture show that became the dream, he felt it loved it, came alive again. Hands sliding over legs, kisses becoming more than innocent, a tongue dancing over lips, touching another tongue, touching Aziraphale's.

Sighs, gasps, sounds that Aziraphale had never heard before rang true in his ears. His own mixing in with pictures of old, things that had already happened, and now mixing with new.

Breath quickening, as pictures in Aziraphale's dream and the real suddenly were all intertwined. Neither could distinguish between the here and now, only the whirlwind, of love, touches, kisses, and more.

Platinum hair curled and bounced down Aziraphale's back, not his but someone he was from the past. Crowley's hands running through them, kisses running down his chest, a touch on his leg as it was hitched on Crowley's hip, and yet the pictures shifted to the now, still standing.

Stuck in a brush of lips that should not be, yet Aziraphale couldn't and didn't want to break away from the kiss that was the here and now. Aziraphale sighed deeply into the kiss with Crowley stepping just that much closer their bodies touching now, intimate yet innocent.

Pictures of things, of places, still flowed through their minds, both knowing them yet one of them learning. As images became more, became feelings of being together, of bare skin, the feeling of being within Aziraphale, within Azira, caused fangs to descend.

Pricking at Aziraphale lips, a single drop of blood touching the point of a fang caused Aziraphale to moan. It was then that the pictures changed to something more brutal and less intimate.

Aziraphale could hear a voice pleading, it was his own, and yet it was not, it was hers. Aziraphale could hear it as well as Crowley. Eyes flashed open, golden locking with Aziraphlaes, Crowley listened to the pleading, tasted the blood, and Crowley vanished.

Aziraphale woke abruptly, panting, scared as a bead of sweat ran down his face. A sudden knocking on his door brought Aziraphale back to his sense, yet not forgetting what had happened, he would have to figure this out.

As Aziraphale stood, he heard the scurrying of feet above his head, his eyes looked upward as he whispered...

"Crowley..."


	7. Dreams of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams mean more than they seem.  
> Bee finds her way into the Cathedral.  
> Micheal and Crowley need to talk.
> 
> Crowley and Aziraphale have a mutual dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Next Chapter is NSFW in  
> any way!!!
> 
> Earning that Explicit rating next chapter!

**Chapter Seven**

_**Dreams of Heaven** _

**https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi5FOUSRU_IW6no_yQtMS0um**

Crowley hurriedly left the cathedral, but not before hearing Aziraphale whisper his name.

"Crowleyyyy...."

An unexpected connection to Aziraphale and suddenly Crowley needed to stop, his legs wanting to carry him back to Aziraphale, longingly, wantonly, needfully needing the father. This worried Crowley on the very breath that whispered his name, he took it in, hesitant, wanton, thirsty for all that Aziraphale was.

Shaking his head to clear what felt like cobwebs that Aziraphale had placed there. Crowley needed to get back to Bee, who was outside dealing with Michael, hoping it hadn't become bloody. Bee was very profound with restraint and patience, which made her one of the most deadly creatures in Crowley's home, and she was his.

Dashing out of the belltower Crowley quickly and far too easily found Bee sitting against Micheal, who she had adjusted into a sitting couch. The smirk that crossed Crowley's face was more than evil, appreciative, and without any human concern for the creature that Bee had turned into her sitting area.

"What did you do to him, Bee?" Crowley chuckled as he watched her eyes widen at his quiet approach.

"Nothing I swear Crow just stopped him from going in. This one is a problem, his lust of your toy is dangerous." Bee stood dusting herself off, always looking like the perfect child—clean, safe, friendly, without the danger being present on her delicate face.

Crowley tilted his head at Bee and held his arms out for her, quickly Bee giggled as she scrambled into Crowley's arms. A quick kiss on Crowley's cheek, Bee scrambled up to perch on Crowley's shoulder as they looked down at Michael. Reaching down, Crowley quickly picked up Micheal by the belt within his trousers, the smell of blood strong on Micheal.

A low growl escaping Crowley as the smell overwhelmed him, it had been three days now without feeding, and this thing Crowley created on accident smelt of far too many humans blood. Bee heard the growl, her eyes snapped to Crowley's face, she could tell when Crowley had waited too long to feed.

"Crow, easy, don't feed here, not on this one, he is tainted now. I can get you food, I won't do anything, just lead... You need to feed Crow, the house will feel it." Bee hopped down, bouncing off the back of Micheal, just because she could.

"No, you don't need to feed me, Bee, I'll find something, though, can you get your way inside with the children? I need to deal with this and the house. Uriel is going to wonder why the father hasn't been dealt with yet, and I have some questions." Crowley's eyes narrowed as he slid his glasses back on, turning to head back towards the house, Bee twirled away from him smirking.

"As you wish, Crow, anything for you!" One last hug, one last kiss upon Crowley's cheek, and Bee smiled, dropping into a child's persona, tearing up as she headed for the cathedral's front door.

Crowley shook his head at her, innocent, and yet she wasn't. Bee was a strange mix of a child, adult, and creature, a danger to most but not to Crowley. Walking Crowley dragged Michael on the ground next to him. Every once and a while, he let Micheal bump his head against a rock, drag through a puddle, and brush. Anything that made Crowley smirk.

Bee danced, played on the grass that fell under her feet, letting her hair grow a touch longer, perfect curls. Eyes falling to human though the color was beautiful beyond the realm of humans. A voice created upon the magicks of the world, luring, calming, drawing, comforting, guaranteed to get her taken into the cathedral.

The cathedral door was now within her reach, her small hand coming up to the door, slowly dropping the smile that was there. A cry, a sob, a whimper the rapid knocking of a small trembling child came from outside the cathedral. Gabriel heard the knocking and rushed to the door, slowly opening it, seeing nothing till he listened to the pathetic whimper from far closer to the ground.

Gabriel knelt down, his eyes darting around the outside, a hand reaching for the child. Quickly Bee ran into Gabriel's arms, small hands around his shoulders holding, tightly, letting her body tremble. Gabriel took Bee inside, closing the door. Reaching the bedroom that held all the children, Gabriel cared for Bee and tucked her neatly in with the other children.

Bee smiled to herself, cunning, believable, Bee knew Crowley would be proud of her, she couldn't wait to see him again. Plus she would get to see the father just that much more, what was it about the father that Crowley needed so dearly.

Michael had become an issue, draining him was no longer an option, he was a mix between things that shouldn't be. Sunlight would have to suffice, but how? Kicking him out the window, maybe, though that in itself was tricky without burning himself, Crowley frowned.

"Maybe I can talk sense into this thing." Crowley doubted it, but he would try. Crowley didn't like taking humans' lives; he never had even when feeding, he would feed and let them go, let the humans heal, and come back when needed.

A continuous food source, but if he was honest with himself, there was only one he wanted to feed on. A father of a cathedral that he was sent to kill or turn. Why had Uriel sent him, and why could he remember everything, smell, taste scent? Uriel had some answers to give Crowley.

Crowley crawled up his tower to his room, dragging Michael with him, throwing him onto the bed, Crowley tied his hands and ankles. Attaching Micheal to the bed, Crowley couldn't chance Micheal getting loose within the house, there would be too many questions.

Frowning as Crowley looked over Micheal, still beautiful even under all the blood that covered his features. Taking a bucket of water from by the window, Crowley cleaned Micheal of the blood, feeling, slowly touching, arms, face, legs, or else the smell would fill the house as if it hadn't already started. Crowley could hear the scurrying closer to his door than he would like.

Washing off Micheals's face, his beauty was even more tempting now that in the light of Crowley's candlelight, the light of the fire danced over Micheals features. Remembering the taste of Micheal didn't help Crowley's current situation as his fangs descended, his forked tongue gliding over his lips. It was Bee's words that crawled through his mind.

~He's tainted Crow, no.~

Crowley growled as he finished cleaning Micheal up, now fully naked on Crowley's bed, a smirk far less than human played upon Crowley's lips. Of course, Bee was right, Micheal was now tainted to feed on, but that didn't mean Crowley couldn't have his fun.

Crowley's mood lightened at the thought, but for the moment, he rid himself of the blood laden clothing in the fire. Watching it burn and with a sniff of the air around him, the scent of the blood was now fading fast. Perfect, now he could wait for Micheal to wake up and see where things went.

Crowley went to sit in his favorite chair, his head leaning back for not more than a moment when he heard his name from somewhere within the house. Crowley knew that voice it was Uriel, rolling his eyes Crowley pretended not to hear it. As he stayed silent, the knock came at his door, begrudgingly Crowley got up, opening the door just a smidge, Uriel's chocolate-colored eyes looked back at him.

"Come out here, Crowley," Uriel said firmly, Crowley knew she wouldn't take no for an answer.

Sliding out his door, making sure the nosey ones didn't get a good view of his room, it was the one place within his own home that he forbade any of them to go. Crowley shifted his weight leaning against his bedroom door, looking down his nose at Uriel, who had to look up, snarled.

"What do you want, Uriel?" Crowley gave of his best I don't give a shit what you want vibe.

"Why isn't the Father dead yet?" Uriel dropped her attitude, realizing it wasn't going to go anywhere with Crowley.

"You said dead or turn, so what is it then and why do you care so much about a simple human?" Crowley stood slightly straighter seeing a glimpse of the fear cross through Uriel's eyes.

"He's preaching far too much peace and tranquility, people are getting along, looking out for one another far too much. It's becoming an issue to feed." Uriel looked as she answered.

"I see, so you want me to get rid of that and spread foment? That's easy enough, but when I get near this particular father, things seemingly go wrong, Uriel, what do you know that you aren't telling me?"

Uriel's eyes dropped to the floor, evading any eye contact with Crowley, the glasses were enough for her to try and lock onto, but this question was one she couldn't answer. Crowley stood straighter taking a step forward.

Uriel stepped back as Crowley's hands caught her lapels within his hands, lifting her off the floor. Finding herself slammed into the wall across from Crowley's room.

"What is it Uriel, do not make me ask again," Crowley growled out his words, as his anger grew iridescent scales slowly appeared on the most delicate of skin.

Uriel shivered under Crowley's strength, the serpent he was slowly appearing, his fangs longer, the points coming to the edge of a needle. Crowley looked over the top of his glasses, golden orbs of light filled his eyes. Slitted eyes looked up and down Uriel, claws slowly piercing Uriel's skin.

Crowley was able to bring pain to other creatures of the night, she felt those claws, gritting her teeth as the pain deepened. Black blood leaked onto her white shirt, slowly staining it with the blood of a vampire. A name they all hated, but it was what they were.

"I can't Crowley, please..." Uriel all but begged.

"Then if not you then who...tell me, or I will end you just for fun asssss I haven't fed in daysssssss becaussse of this plan for the father..." Crowley hissed out.

Uriel closed her mouth, the pain becoming unbearable still, she stayed silent. Trembling as the blood started to drip from her fingers, trying to hold her tongue against the pain that Crowley was giving her. Crowley didn't care for any of them except Bee, and he was far more potent than most of the house.

Crowley feared none of them. Crowley was one of the first, only one above his age, his time as a creature, and that was the one who made him. The one that Crowley wanted to rip apart, and he had never seen again, only hearing his words in his dreams, sleep, and mind. Crowley had learned to block him out.

"Please, Crowley, please...." Uriel's words pathetic, begging, pleading.

"No, tell me now." Crowley dug his claws deeply into Uriel's arms, the other creatures backing off, stepping back, knowing they would be next.

Crowley slowly started to pull against the shoulders that he now held against the wall. Lowering his mouth to Uriel's neck, a forked tongue flicked over her skin, points of fangs pricking her.

"Sandalphon, it was Sandalphon....please Crowley stop, please." Uriel cried out.

Crowley dropped Uriel to the ground turning back to his room. Glowering at the creatures that had the audacity to be near his room. As the creatures saw Crowley's look all scurried away, Uriel slowly got up from the floor, keeping her eyes locked on Crowley.

"One day Crowley, someone is going to turn on you..." Uriel quickly vanished from sight as soon as she was able.

Uriel was indeed only the messenger of things that needed to be done. Crowley tilted his head, looking at her, a sickenly wicked smile played upon Crowley's lips. Crowley didn't care if he died, it was a wish that he was ready for any moment, but these creatures feared death.

Crowley went back into his room, returning to his chair; he needed what he would call sleep and how Crowley hoped he would see Aziraphale within his dreams. Golden eyes slowly closed, letting go of the reality he lived, his dreams would take him somewhere else.

Father Ezra opened his door to the knocking of anathema, she smiled upon his ap[pearance.

"The children are all asleep, but one straggler came to the door, very sad, weeping. Gabriel brought her in, took care of everything, and she is now with the others. If there is nothing else, Gabriel and I are going to sleep for a while." anathema blushed slightly.

Aziraphale nodded and gave her his blessing for the night, and with that, Aziraphale wandered back into his room, closing and locking the door. Going to his chair, he sat in front of the fire, losing himself within the dancing flames.

Crowley slipped into his dream state, as he became aware of where he was, he started looking for Aziraphale. He wasn't found, so Crowley began to call him, call his name search within his dream for him. Searching for Aziraphale without knowing why he only knew he needed him.

Aziraphale thought he heard his name and looked around his room, there was nothing, all was quiet, but he heard it again. Standing, Aziraphale looked around again, moving books. Then decidedly continued on, ignoring the call, grabbing a book to read to try and ignore the sound.

As he read the book, he heard his name again, but this time it had a pull, something was calling him. Sitting back against his chair, Aziraphale closed his eyes, listening for the siren that appealed to him, what was it. It pulled again, what could it want, keeping Aziraphale awake as he tried to sleep.

How Aziraphale wanted to go, he felt the pull, he longed to follow the voice into the unknown. Aziraphale felt it, needed it, and so he closed his eyes, letting the voice lure him to sleep, into whatever dream may come. His heart was singing back in answer to the sound of his name being called from within a dream.

Starlit blue eyes closed the warmth of the fire, helping to lure Aziraphale into sleep. Colors, flowers, trees, an open field, a house on the other side of the field appeared to Aziraphale. Running towards the house, Aziraphale noticed he felt different, looking down at himself he realized he wasn't in a man's body, he was in hers. Someone he had only seen in his dreams before, never understanding what she was, but here he was, as her in the dream.

Aziraphale stopped in the middle of the field, listening for the voice, looking at his delicate hands, his hair that stopped below his waist. He was so different, yet he felt more himself, complete, together, memories started to slowly fill Aziraphale's mind, until he heard his name called again.

Turning Aziraphale ran towards the call, the lure of something else from the gardens behind the house. Running, the flowers of the fields soft below her feet, tickling as she ran through the field, finally reaching the house she listened. The call of her name familiar, needing to find where it came from.

Crowley called once again from the garden behind the house, a house from long ago, a home that was supposed to be made within the home. Reaching the garden, she stood there looking at Crowley's back as he called for her again. Memories filtered through Aziraphale's mind, both finally coming together.

Taking a step forward she smiled, even as the memory of her end came into being, she didn't care, for she was here now and Crowley was within her reach. A delicate hand reached out, touching Crowley's shoulder, slowly Crowley turned around and looked down at her, a hitched gasp left Crowley's lips as he looked at her.

There she stood, Crowley, stepped back, not sure if what he was seeing was real. Aziraphale reached out for Crowley catching his hand, stopping him from leaving. Crowley took a deep breath, reaching out to touch the side of her face, soft, delicate, it was her. As Crowley's mind took in all he was seeing, the name he was calling brought her, him, them to Crowley.

Crowley understood. Aziraphale was how she came back, but in dreams, she was able to manifest herself. She was reaching out for Crowley, her face leaning in against the palm of his hand. Breathing, living, her scent, her softness, pulled Crowley closer. Crowley reached into those platinum curls and dragged her to him, his arms wrapping around her.

Uriel's words of killing the father, turning the father, what they had sent him to do, he understood. Somehow Sandalphon had figures out who Aziraphale was, and he threatened to change Crowley, to pull Crowley away from the house. Killing him would end all problems, but turning the father would solidify Crowley staying at the home because he would have his love back.

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley. Eyes tearing up as the memories flowed through her, teaching Aziraphale all he was, all they were as one. Aziraphale reached around Crowley, her arms wrapping around him as though their life depended on it.

"You're back, it's really you..." Crowley looked into the eyes that graced both of them. Crowley understood as he stood there, locking eyes, touching her face.

"I'm so sorry, please forgive me..." Crowley rested his forehead against hers, both taking a shaky breath and relishing the other's touch.

Aziraphale sighed, letting go of who and what he was, he felt the need from Crowley, he felt his own need. Aziraphale felt her love from the past, felt her need for him, combining with his own. Crowley suddenly became everything at that moment as both beings became one.

Crowley took a step back, looking at them, a shifting of images, somewhere between her, somewhere between Aziraphale both looking at Crowley. Love pouring from them for him, forgiveness, longing, Aziraphale looked at Crowley, his own thoughts becoming his own, she was fading into Aziraphale.

Crowley stopped, took in the images he was seeing, and pulled Aziraphale too him. Arms wrapped around Aziraphale, a sigh leaving him as he rested his head against Crowley's shoulder. Feeling warmth where there should be none. Crowley placed his fingers under Aziraphale's chin and tilted it up.

Looking into impossibly blue eyes, Crowley smiled, bending his head just so, letting his lips brush over Aziraphale's. Feeling the air leave Aziraphale as his lips parted at the touch. How he wanted Crowley, everything in him screamed for Crowley's touch.

It was a dream, Aziraphale couldn't be faulted for touching, feeling Crowley's lips against his own. Aziraphale breathed Crowley in as he pressed his lips against Crowleys deepening their kiss. Crowley's arms tightened around Aziraphale, pressing their bodies together, feeling the warmth flow over them.

Aziraphale reached up, wrapping his arms around Crowley's neck, the glasses hitting Aziraphale as he tilted his head. Pulling his head back, Aziraphjale touched upon those glasses, sliding them off Crowley's face, dangling them behind his head.

Aziraphale looked up into bright golden eyes, finding the beauty of God herself within those eyes that he let himself get lost in.

"You're beautiful," Aziraphale whispered out, pressing his lips back against Crowleys.

Crowley inhaled sharply, hearing those words and then feeling Aziraphale's lips against his own. Crowley hoped this dream would never end, let him stay in this dream forever. Aziraphale slid his hands up into Crowley's hair, twisting within those flame-red waves. If God gave him dream this, then it was her will, who was Aziraphale to stop this, he wanted it.


	8. A Time of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Bee in place, things seem to be going well. Only to have everything fail,  
> having someone come in and try to  
> end everyone.
> 
> Crowley must decide between his want  
> and the need for change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.
> 
> TW:
> 
> These are vampires, if blood bothers you, well it's here  
> The killing of characters in bad ways  
> and yes, we earned the Explicit creating this time through!

**Chapter 8**

_A Time for Change_

**https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi7VIx_3JzyhJMPpjjFDew9_**

Bee noiselessly waited in amongst the other children who were sleeping and found them dreaming of castles in the sky, fairy tales, peacefully, and deeply dreaming. Dreaming,...Dreaming was something that Bee was no longer able to do. Though, since her turning, Bee discovered that she could control the ebb and flow of any dream. Along with Crowley's teachings, she could insert herself, watch the dreams of others, and tempt humans into other things.

Anathema and Gabriel ever so unobtrusively returned to the room, tiptoeing in as both humans looked over the children. Gabriel smiled as he looked closely at the newly arrived child, beauty and innocence flowed from Bee, surrounding her, almost seemingly making her glow, mesmerizing. Bee let her breathing slow; her eyes shut as though in a deep sleep. It was then as Gabriel stood and turned back to face Anathema that Bee felt it.

Gabriel's thoughts, impure for Anathema yet somehow touched by light. A longing that grew with every passing moment, a need that was in and of itself, pure, love. A temptation that wouldn't take much pushing, for it would only take a suggestion in both of their minds. Gabriel's eyes locked onto Anathema, who felt herself being looked at, turning to face him, Anathema smiled, and Bee pushed a single thought to each of them.

~Go to him, you need to feel his touch...Go to him Anathemaaa...~ a whispered thought, a feeling, a hushed need flowed from Bee's mind and into Anathemas.

Within Gabriel's mind, the thought of touch, the memory of Anathemas scent being pushed, overwhelming, a need being nurtured, cared for. Just a step closer, the two humans stood facing each other, and Bee grinned, listening to the two's thoughts. Gabriel's hand slowly came up to touch the side of Anathemas' face.

~Touch her Gabriel,... slowly, gently, you need her...~ -a sense of feeling, the scent of her, as hushed and whispered thoughts, and endless words of promise filled and overtook Gabriel.

A sigh escaped Anathemas' lips, her face pushing against Gabriel's hand, sliding it further, feeling the soft curls slip through his fingers. One more step and Anathema had to look up at Gabriel, his gaze falling around her beauty. Anathema was smiling up at him, arms slid around her sides, picking Anathema up, holding her against him, Anathema let her lips brush over Gabriels.

One more little push and Bee was left alone in the room with the children. It was night time when she needed to be awake when she needed to feed. Now that the two humans were taken care of, Bee stood, listening, looking, feeling where animals were for her feeding. Crowley had taught her well. How not to get dirty, how to keep the blood in her mouth, and nowhere on her person.

Closing her eyes, Bee sat in a chair for a moment, looking in on the children's dreams. It was the one thing she missed most was being able to dream, silence, and darkness were all she could remember when she woke. So since then, Bee would steal others' dreams as her own, and in this room where she sat, were children, no older than herself when she was turned.

A door was shut from the room across from the children, but noises of love and passion were quietly echoing through the dark. Desperate, longing, the candlelight holding the secrets within its shadow of the things that were happening behind that closed door, something that Bee would never know, would never have. At least she had Crowley, she thought to herself, at least she wasn't alone.

Standing, Bee headed out through the door, leaving it open just a touch so she could get back. Into the rafters she went, quickly, quietly, birds were there, she could hear them, see the warmth of their blood flowing through veins, through hearts that fluttered. They should be enough for this night, leaving her full, leaving her to be able to deal with the morning light and the children on a fulfilled evening.

Bee ran and danced through the rafters catching the birds, draining them, hiding them in the bell tower's top. Dropping back to the rafters, Bee felt the Father dreaming, and she could feel Crowley within that dream. Bee didn't want to know, didn't want to see what the dream was, slowly backing away from the far end of the Cathedral Bee caught a scent.

Hastur.

Bee left the Cathedrals rafters, sitting next to the gargoyles perch she looked out, she could smell him. Hastur's scent was almost unbearable, having never cleaned old blood from himself, he was rank and smelt of rotting bodies, of death. It was a scent that Bee knew far too well; it was the scent of the one that changed her. Bee's new life came from death itself, and she hated Hastur.

Something dashed through the forest, catching her sight. It was Hastur, death incarnate, full of jealousy, full of hate, hatred towards Crowley. Crowley always kept Hastur in his place, took Bee from him, and made her his own. Hastur was not to be taken lightly, he was powerful, just not as much as Crowley was.

In a back bedroom, Bee's handy work unfolded, most unbeknown to them what dangers lurked just outside the walls of the Cathedral. Desperate lips brushed over silken skin, a gasp, a sigh as fingers slid into hair, pulling, tasting. Clothing pulled, undone, dropped to the floor in piles that led to Gabriel's bed.

Bee shook her head, erasing the temptation that she had nurtured there, clearing everything. A breath was deepening as she closed her eyes, finding and entering the Father and Crowley's dream. Bee needed to warn Crowley, Hastur was there at the Cathedral, and the Father was still human with no protection.

Crowley's lips were just a moment from being able to kiss Aziraphale again, his love, life, and the life he had taken so long ago. Stopping suddenly feeling Bee within the dream, Crowley growled lowly looking for her. Only a glimpse of Bee came into view, hearing only a few words before she was snapped away.

~Wake up Crowley, Hastur...~

Crowley stood, looking down upon Aziraphale, who was looking up at him, openly wanting. Needing Crowley, Aziraphale's hands tightened around Crowley's wrists, pulling Crowley to him, and then as lips touch, Aziraphale vanished from the dream.

Startling awake, Crowley looked down, finding Micheal kneeling between his knees on the floor. Nails dragged down Crowley's thighs, Micheals grin filled with contempt, a turning that was incomplete. Crowley could feel the want, the lust that filled Micheal now. For a moment, Crowley considered and then remembered, Bee and Aziraphale both being ripped from a dream that he hadn't ended.

Crowley shoved Micheal back, watching as he rolled away, placing himself in a position to attack Crowley. Drooling, growling Micheal went to strike, only to find his wrists caught within Crowley's hand, pushing him back down onto his knees in front of Crowley. Golden serpentine eyes glared over the rims of Crowley's glasses.

With a twist of Crowley's hand, Micheal's wrists snapped, a gargled whine escaped Micheal, newly bitten, not fully turned trying to scramble away, but Crowley grabbed the back of Micheal's head, pulling it down into his knee. Crowley grinned at the hollow-sounding thud of Micheal's head. Crowley unceremoniously dropped Micheal to the floor and looked towards the window.

Leaving Micheal on the floor of his room, Crowley went out the window, Micheal would be healed by the time morning arrived. Crowley hit the ground, changing into his serpent form, sliding under the ground. Faster and faster he went, popping up out of the ground Crowley jumped up into the Aziraphale window, only to find the room empty.

Crowley sniffed at the air, smelling blood, newly dropped onto the floor, looking down at the window sill Crowley found his hand touching blood. Bringing it to his lips, he sniffed it, tasted it, Aziraphale. Panic tugged at Crowley's mind, and another scent filled Crowley's nose, dark blood, Bee. Crowley's Bee, he could smell her.

Crowley dropped to the ground. Bee's scent was closest to him. Following the smell, he finally could see the dark blood glowing in the night under Crowley's serpentine sight. Crowley ran, the glow growing as more dark blood had been spilled. Panic filled Crowley, protection of his Bee pushed past the alarm.

Thereby the water's edge was Bee, small, unmoving, her body glowing with the dark blood she had bled. Crowley stopped at her side, pulling her up into his arms, holding her, listening, looking. An unneeded breath finally escaping, Crowley looked over Bees being. Broken, beaten, cuts, bites, claws, Crowley growled deeply as he picked Bee up; he could smell Hastur on her.

Bringing Bee up into the trees, finding a large enough branch to lay her on, Crowley wiped the blood away from her face. Bee's eyes opened, seeing Crowley her tiny hands clung to his arm, clinging to her Crowley.

"Bee, my little one, my daughter, what happened?" Gently Crowley pulled her closer to his chest, wrapping her within his embrace.

Bee relaxed within Crowley's arms, the feeling of being protected, saved filled her. Crowley could feel her tiny body soften, become heavy as her eyes opened, looking up into his shaded stare. Tilting his head down, Crowley placed a single kiss on Bee's forehead, holding her to him, no intention of releasing her just yet.

"Hastur took him, Crowley. I tried to stop him, but I, he saw me, I didn't realize." Bee turned her face into Crowley's chest, hiding it there, drawing in the protection of a father's feeling, breathing Crowley in.

"You tried to stop him, didn't you," Crowley asked quietly, no disappointment, no feeling of uncaring falling from him.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Crowley." Bee tilted her face up; blood still trickled from the corners of her mouth, a worrisome gash across her brow.

"You can't ever beat the one that turned you little one, no matter how much you are taught, he still turned you. However, I may very well finish him this time. Which way did they go, Aziraphale doesn't stand much of a chance." Crowley looked into her star set eyes, smiling at her bravery.

"Crowley, he went back to the house with him." Bee curled into Crowley's embrace, breathing slower, her little body needed blood, needing to be fixed and cared for.

Crowley nodded, picking Bee up as he stood Crowley jumped down from the tree branches. Looking towards the Cathedral, he felt a temptation flowing from within; Bee had been busy. Taking off running towards the house, Crowley unfurled his blackened wings, Crowley pushed himself faster, up and into the tower window of his room he landed.

Placing Bee in his bed Crowley opened his wrist, feeding Bee enough to heal as she slept. Bee's eyes closed, sleep, deathless, a dreamless night under Crowley's protection. Micheal should have been in the corner of the room, unkind, harsh, cruel, Crowley had been. Looking for Micheal, a twinge of guilt fell slowly over Crowley as the realization fell over him. Micheal was gone, broken, untrained, changing into something. Crowley would have to deal with Micheal later; right now, he needed to find Aziraphale.

A human in Crowley's mansion would not end well, not for anybody, a holy human was even more of a temptation. Aziraphale was Crowleys, from long before Hastur, from long before any of the current residences, he wasn't going to lose Aziraphale again, especially not to Hastur.

No one truly knew where Hastur came from, Crowley only knew that on one darkened evening Hastur all but crawled up onto Crowley's porch. There was no one with him, and no one ever came to claim Hastur, he just was. Much to Crowley's disappointment, Hastur came in and made himself home.

Crowley had watched Hastur as he entered the mansion, saw him smell the air, and then down deeper into the house. A room in the far recesses of Crowley's basement was where Hastur took up residence. The damp, musty scent clung to Hastur, and the coolness seemed to fit him, he was quiet, at first.

As time went on and Hastur grew into himself, he took the entire basement as his own, only once did someone try to venture into that part of the mansion, only to have lost a limb in the process. Crowley had tried repeatedly to get Hastur to bath and clean the blood he tracked into the house, but it was to no avail. The only rule that Crowley got through to Hastur was no bringing the humans, his kills, whatever he was going to eat back to the house.

Hastur learned that rule the hard way, he had been warned in the past, but Hastur dragged in a child on one particular evening. Small, helpless, listless, on the verge of death itself. Crowley had heard the gargled cries, the strangled whimpers of the child, it was what called him from his room and out into the house.

Crowley flew through his house, still hearing the cries, smelling the fresh blood that must have been dripping from the child. When Crowley reached the first floor, he could see the smears of the blood of something small being dragged. Crowley could tell it was bleeding out, and he could hear the whimpers growing quiet, a fluttering heart slowing.

Crowley went into Hasturs' basement down the stairs, where the walls were covered in new and old blood, where Hastur would lick the blood from the walls just to relive a kill. To Crowley, Hastur was sick, evil an abomination. As Crowley turned into the last room, there was Bee, small, young, too young in the light of a candle. A child's eyes, innocent and pure, looking at Crowley and far too wide, at that moment, Bee became Crowleys, daughter.

Crowley walked to her, without a thought of Hastur and picked Bee up into his arms, protecting her from the darkness that threatened to consume her. Turning Crowley caught Hastur's sight, there in the doorway, attempting to block Crowley and the child in place. A warning growl left Crowley's chest, his serpentine eyes glowing in the cold and wet basement's darkness.

Hastur slowly dropped his stance, Crowley would have to get past Hastur with the little one. Hastur's eyes were taking in his meal that he intended to devour at his leisure, innocent, pure. Crowley's eyes narrowed, holding the child closer to his chest, one arm staying wrapped around her. Hastur was not going to take her from Crowley; no one was. She was a reason for Crowley to live, someone to love, someone that needed him as much as he needed her.

Hastur had charged at Crowley only to find himself plastered against the wall behind Crowley. His face shattered into the rock wall that stopped his movement, a sudden stop that caused more damage than Hastur expected. Crowley sauntered back towards the door leading out of the basement. Following every action that Hastur had made, keeping Bee out of Hastur's reach.

Spitting the black blood from his lips, Hastur looked between his meal and Crowley. Hastur's last mistake, a mistake that would haunt Crowley and Hastur, always. Dropping himself lower, lower until a knee touched the floor, Hastur pushed off, charging Crowley.

Crowley's hand reached out, grabbing Hastur by the wrist and spinning. A sickening pop echoed through the silent mansion. All the residence ran for their rooms, their cover, safety. Hastur's scream was strangled, gargled as his arm came loose from his body. Crowley was spinning away from Hastur holding Bee close to his body, seeing an opportunity Crowley darted out of the basement, throwing Hasturs arm back at him as he ascended the stairs.

Deep within Crowley, through all the anger, he felt something through his darkened view of the world. Crowley felt the need to protect this small one, felt regret for how badly he had injured Hastur, he didn't approve of these feelings, they were human feelings, and he was anything but. Crowley's humanity had left him long ago when he took a life, a life of one that loved him.

Crowley's arms kept the little one, Bee, close to him as he made it back to his bedroom, he cared for, watched over, and would train the child if she survived. For more than a week, Crowley never left his room even to feed, and he cared for Bee. An attachment grew between them, and on the night that Bee finally changed, little fingers twirled into Crowley's hair as she slept next to him. Bee would never be without Crowley, and Crowley would forever be her father now.

Hastur's cries and whimpers could be heard for that week as he slowly healed, Crowley knew that one day Hastur would come into his own and seek revenge. Crowley now worried if this was that time, he was at a disadvantage. Crowley ran his fingers through his hair as he looked down the darkened staircase, Hasturs lair.

The descent into Hasturs lair was palpable, his scent filled the area, but then Crowley caught another smell that filled his nose. Fresh blood, old blood covered the walls, dripping with the moisture that was collected here. Micheal had been down here, Crowley could smell him, then just below the overwhelming smell of blood, was Aziraphales scent.

Crowley couldn't help the warning growl that left him, nor how his teeth bit into his lower lip, going further into the basement. Light, barely discernable candlelight appeared from beyond the last wall. Hastur had been busy digging further past the rock walls of the foundation and basement. Under the ground, Hastur had dug out his lair.

Dirt walls and ground now covered with the blood of those Hastur had brought here. The ground wet with the stench of rotting flesh, of blood that had been spilled here, puddles of it. Hanging from the self-made rafters were bodies slowly being drained of blood. Crowley carefully took in the surroundings. Hastur had found a way around the rules, and he was bringing humans here.

It became overwhelmingly apparent to Crowley that Hastur needed to be ended. Dead blood, rotting flesh was not for their kind, Crowley realized that Hastur was something else, a creature an abomination even for them. Dangerous, deadly, evil, an unknown being, a danger to all of them.

In the far back corner was Hastur, crouching, waiting. In the shadows of the candlelight looking at Crowley, he was lurking there, an inhumane grin covering his face from ear to ear. Crowley observed Hastur as a blackened tongue darted out of Hastur's mouth, sliding across his blood laden lips.

Blood dripped from Hastur's chin, landing on his dirty shirt, finding a new way to stain it. The smell of Aziraphale was more pungent here. A step closer brought Crowley closer; he could taste Aziraphale's blood on the very air he breathed in. Hastur chuckled darkly, knowingly, licking his lips again.

"Looking for something or someone, Crowley?" Hastur asked as he wiped the back of his hand across his face, licking the blood that gathered there.

"Where is he, Hastur? What have you done?" Crowley let his fangs descend; further, it was a needed feature that he had possessed. Being able to shapeshift was something that Crowley had been able to do since his transformation. Fangs, wings, claws made him a deadly hunter, and not many survived Crowley.

'Oh, you mean the Father you were supposedly taking care of? Well, I figured I would help you out, take care of two birds with one stone as they say. That lovely one you had locked away in your room, well I gave the Father to him, see, it would seem that he had a thing for the Father." Hastur's grin spread even further than it was, grinning in what appeared to be further than his face would allow.

Crowley rushed Hastur, his fingers wrapping around Hastur's throat, squeezing. Hastur gurgled as nimble fingers squeezed, his grin not faltering. Hastur knew that Crowley couldn't kill him, at least not yet, Hastur was the only one who knew where he had sent two men.

Crowley growled as he raked his claws down Hastur's neck, opening his chest. Hastur gasped, bringing his hand to cover the wounds on his chest, falling to the ground as Crowley's hand released him, laughing, chuckling within a gurgled sound left Hastur. Hastur had Crowley at a disadvantage, and he knew it.

"Oh poor Crowley, I wonder where they are? I wonder if Micheal has had his way or if he has drained the Father yet. I wonder if life still beats within that Father." Hastur grin became lecherous, his eyes black reflecting what light was in the cave back at Crowley.

Crowley was at an impasse, killing Hastur would leave Crowley having to hunt for Aziraphale, for Micheal. It would take to long, Micheal hadn't fed yet, he was still changing, and Crowley had injured him, cruelly, and he knew it. Hastur's blackened eyes watched Crowley and seemed to understand what Crowley was thinking, how.

"What do you want, Hastur?" Crowley asked, knowing it was going to be something he couldn't ever give him.

"Oh well that's easy enough, I already tasted the Father, he is rather tasty, but I want Bee, you stole her, and she is mine to do what I want with now." Hastur's smile disturbed even Crowley, and Crowley had seen and been through so much over the years he had been alive.

Crowley's eyes narrowed, glowing slightly brighter with the anger that filled him, Bee was not something he would ever give to anyone. A scraping sound from behind Crowley snapped his head around, only to see Bee bringing herself to Crowleys' side. Bee stumbled, only to find herself pulled into Crowley's arms, keeping her from falling.

Crowley could feel Hasturs mood change as he saw Bee in his lair, joy. Crowley growled, turning his head to look back at Hastur. A small hand reached up, touching Crowley's face, making him look down at her.

"I can help you find him, Crowley, I can find where he dreams." Bee grinned wickedly as her eyes fell to look at Hastur.

"Are you sure you can see my little one?" Crowley pressed a kiss to Bee's forehead.

"Yes, but a favor, I can't finish him but you can." Bee gently touched Crowley's cheek; her smile mischievously vicious as starlet eyes glanced at Hastur.

Both Crowley and Bee looked towards Hastur. Hastur backed away from the two, the knowing smile on Crowleys face left as fangs descended, and Crowley let himself change. Bee had only seen this side of Crowley once before, and that was to save a family from new residents of the house.

Hastur raised his hand to make Crowley stop. With a sickeningly snapping sound, Hastur screeched as his hand landed next to him. Crowley was faster than Hastur by far, faster than anyone in the house, he was by far one of the oldest in the house. Hastur fell back against the wall seeing a moment to break away. Hastur charged at Bee.

Grabbing her from the floor, Hastur held Bee by her throat. Claws were digging into her neck's flesh, a whimper as dark blood bubbled up around each one of Hasturs claws. Crowley stopped, looking at Bee he saw the smile just as her fangs descended. Crowley watched as she opened her mouth, dislocating her jaw opening wider.

"Kill Bee!" Crowley took away the rule for her not to be able to kill anything but animals. Crowley had trained her well, and Bee would be able to damage Hastur but not kill him, which would be his final blow.

Bee tilted her head back, snapping her jaw, sinking her fangs into Hastur's face. Hastur's hand let go of her throat, trying to get her off him, Bee held on, now digging her claws into his body, holding herself firmly there. Crowley rushed Hastur, his hands grabbing at Hastur's neck, twisting as Crowley went up and over the top of Hasturs head.

Crowley's feet touched the ground, pulling, and with a popping sound Hasturs head came off his shoulders. Bee released her hold, falling to the ground. Crowley threw Hasturs head and spun, his arms reaching for Bee, pulling her up to him, rushing her out of the basement, and back to Crowleys room.

Crowley quickly placed Bee back in his bed, reaching for water to clean his little one. Proudly Crowley cleaned Bee off, innocent, pure, clean, his little angel, and little girl. Placing a kiss on each cheek, Bee giggled, she was free of Hastur, and her Crowley was proud of her.

Crowley could see how tired Bee was, but he needed a direction to go in, needed a way to find Aziraphale. Bee watched Crowley as he slid his glasses back on, she knew he needed to go. Closing her eyes, Bee looked for the feeling that she felt from the Cathedral's father, there was a purity of love, love for Crowley.

Searching using her powers differently, to find, she smirked as she realized she was using her powers of temptation to find a link with Aziraphale. Crowley watched, then he saw his little one smile; he knew that smile Crowley knew she found Aziraphale.

A relatively hushed whisper left Bee as though she would lose Aziraphale if she made too much sound. Reaching out, she touched Crowley's hand, pulling him to her, she whispered in his ear.

"The witches house. Go there; he's somewhere there." Bee released Crowley's hand and smiled at him, Crowley watched for only a moment longer as her eyes closed.

Crowley kissed her tiny hands, placing them on her chest, pulling up the covers he tucked her in. Bee was his everything, no one would ever hurt her again, but he needed to save Aziraphale and deal with Micheal right now. Turning towards the window, adjusting his glasses, Crowley let his wings open, stepping up he dropped out of the window.

Catching the wind within his wings, Crowley pushed the air down, propelling him faster as he headed for the witches' house. Anathema's home, the witch, would not be pleased about Micheal being there, let alone Aziraphale. One last glance over his shoulder, he saw his mansion disappear behind him, with his eyes cast forward, Crowley saw the house coming into view.

There in the middle of a fairy circle was Anathema's house. Having been there for generations before her, Crowley knew them all, from the first witch that entered that circle till Anathema giving him issues about feeding. Crowley fluttered over the house, smelling, feeling for Aziraphale.

Blood, new blood, Aziraphales blood Crowley could smell it and now could see it. Diving from the air Crowleys' feet touched the ground as wings were laid flat against his back, not a sound made. He was keeping his glasses on to hide the glow of his eyes as he searched for Aziraphale.

Beyond the fairy circle, Crowley remembered the cave, by the edge of the water, if you hadn't been shown it, you wouldn't know it was there. A bloodied handprint glowed under Crowley's serpentine stare. Quietly, effortlessly Crowley made it to the cave entrance, he could feel Aziraphale, could feel the purity fighting against the evil that Michael was changing into, his true nature was becoming him.

Crowley entered the cave, walking silently towards the back, he saw Aziraphale. Stopping to take in the rest of the caves surrounding Crowley made out Micheal, lurking behind Aziraphale, holding him there in front of him as a shield. Taking only another step forward, Crowley could see the blood that covered the front of Aziraphale, and he had been bleeding for a while now.

Micheals lips, his jaw covered in Aziraphale's blood, he had fed on him. Micheal's change was complete; he was nothing more than another Hastur, and Aziraphale was Micheals Bee; once again, Crowley would have to end Micheal. There was no way of being able to save him now, Crowley needed to save Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was tugged back into Micheal; his eyes opened, tired, life ebbing away from him, Crowley could see it, sense it. Micheal pulled back Aziraphale's head. The pale throat of Aziraphale bared, blood trickled from bites that were not Crowleys. A slight whimper from Aziraphale pulled Crowley's attention away from the blood that trickled down Aziraphale's front.

Micheal, still newly changed, opened his mouth, leaning down to bite into Aziraphale's neck, brought forth a feral growl from Crowley. Aziraphale was his before Micheals fangs broke the damaged flesh of Aziraphale's neck Crowley had him by his throat.

Aziraphale fell to the floor of the cave as Micheal was pulled away from him. Crowley stopped an inch in front of Micheal's face, eyes locking onto Micheal. Micheal's mouth went to open to speak. However, Crowley was done and was faster and didn't want to hear anything he had to say. Another abomination that Hastur had helped create. Within a split second, Crowley had ripped out Micheals throat, his hands reaching to stop the bleeding.

Crowley stepped back and watched Micheal fall to the floor, gasping out sprays of blood, droplets catching the moon's light fell to the floor of the cave. Crowley turned and went to Aziraphale, picking him up within his arms. Crowley walked out of the cave, leaving Micheal to bleed out. No one needed to know about him; this was better.

Crowley exited the cave, and the moonlight lit up the blood on Aziraphale, he was weak. Looking up Crowley let his wings unfurl, he needed to get Aziraphale somewhere safe, he could feel that too much blood had been lost, the smell alone would bring the others to Crowleys room. Crowley knew where to take him, a place he only went to keep hidden, to keep safe, to keep as his own.

Aziraphale's hand grasped onto Crowley's shirt, holding it there, his eyes shut, Crowley felt his life ebbing away from him. Aziraphale needed to drink, Crowley was going to have to change him, whether he wanted to or not, it was out of his hands now. If he didn't let Aziraphale drink of him, he would die, it was too far along.

Even though he didn't want to change Aziraphale in Crowley's mind, he was pure; the light shined within him, and from him, Crowley couldn't help the smile, though. He would never be without his love ever again, they would be together always, and Crowley had Bee. This moment would give him back all he had lost so many years ago; he would have his family.

Crowley flew, holding onto Aziraphale, his arms tightening around Aziraphale. Feeling Aziraphale's pulse weakening as blood freely flowed from wounds that Crowley had not made, this was not the way Crowley had wanted Aziraphale to change, now or ever. Crowley had wanted Aziraphale to ask for it, to make his own mind up about it.

This, though, was more than Crowley could consider right now; he needed to save him. In the far back recesses of the forest was a singular tower that Crowley had built years before, a place for Bee to learn and not be bothered by anyone if Crowley had to be away, where she would be safe.

Crowley landed at the top of the tower. Wings laid down across his back as he walked Aziraphale in and laid him gently onto the bed. Lighting the candles, Crowley looked back at Aziraphale, the blood, the wounds, easily discerned. Water and cloth were brought to the bedside, Crowley needed to clean away the blood, and the marks from others.

Drinking in dead blood, or the other marks could quickly kill Crowley, or turn Aziraphale into something else. Slowly, gently Crowley cleaned Aziraphale, carefully removing each clothing piece until on his bed under the pale moonlight was an angel. His angel.

Crowley sat on the bed next to Aziraphale, his eyes drifting over his angel. Gently long nimble fingers touched Aziraphale's cheek, slowly following his jawline, tilting Aziraphale's head to the side and opening his neck to Crowley. Releasing his hold on himself, Crowley let his fangs descend, taking a deep breath, his nose was filled with the scent of Aziraphale, his blood.

Crowley needed it, lowering his head to Aziraphale's neck, Crowley's fangs pierced the flesh. Blood trickled into Crowley's mouth, the taste he remembered from years ago when he first fed. Aziraphale gasped, feeling Crowley drink from him, he had little left. Though this wasn't pain, it felt right, and somewhere in his head Aziraphale thanked a god that brought him here.

Crowley lifted his head, licking the blood from his fangs, he bit into his wrist, bringing it to Aziraphale's lips. Slowly drip by drip until pale fingers wrapped around Crowley's wrist, pulling it deeper into Aziraphale's mouth as he drank. Aziraphale drank, tasting Crowley in his mouth, it was warmth, pleasure, it filled him with a need that turned into a burning.

Pulling his hand away from Aziraphale Crowley hissed, looking back at Aziraphale, whose eyes had snapped open. Panting, gasping, Crowley watched, seeing Aziraphale's pink tongue dart out, pulling in the blood remnants that he had drunk upon. Now Crowley waited, he crawled up into the bed and rested against the headboard, pulling Aziraphale closer to him.

Beautiful blue eyes closed, Crowley sighed, tired, needing to feed, but for now, he would wait just as he had with Bee. No one would take Aziraphale from him, now or ever. Closing his eyes, Crowley would stay for as long as it took. Never having realized how tired he had become Crowley slept, with his angel changing as he slept on Crowley's lap.

Crowley slept for the first time in what seemed his forever was going to be but waking, and he looked down on his love that was still sleeping. Quietly Crowley got up and walked to the edge of the tower's window, and he needed to feed, he would be back shortly. Without feeding, Crowley wouldn't be able to take care of Aziraphale if he needed more. Turning Crowley dropped out of the tower, Aziraphale heard Crowley's wings open as he flew off.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked around the tower, and he could see everything, statues that were only lit by the moon seems to move on their own. Sitting up, he touched his neck, wincing slightly Aziraphale got out of the bed, walking to look out at the night skies, seeing a beauty that had been hidden from him his entire life.

Grabbing a throw from the chair by the window, Aziraphale wrapped his shoulders covering his, from what he didn't know, he wasn't cold. Everything felt different, and he felt different, he could remember, Aziraphale remembered his life before. All the emotions, the love, everything that could be remembered was, and he looked for Crowley.

Overwhelming amounts of emotions, the life he had with Crowley before, the way her life had ended, and yet the love of Crowley stayed with her and now was Aziraphale's. Aziraphale could still feel his love of God, his faith didn't falter, but the love that poured from him, the love that filled him was Crowley.

Desperation started to take over his thoughts, as he looked for Crowley, he needed him, needed to be grounded. Aziraphale needed to find his footing, and his new life was starting. Crowley had found food, enough to sustain him and Aziraphale if required, but something tugged at him to return.

Crowley's feet touched the tower's stone floor, the window behind him, blocking the moonlight just partially as he looked into the room. Looking out of the window across from Crowley stood Aziraphale, a blanket draped over him, covering him, warming him, the light kissing a pale shoulder.

Aziraphale stilled, turning slowly, his eyes taking in Crowley, familiar, safety. Crowley carefully walked towards Aziraphale, not wanting to startle him or make him flee. A step forward, his head tilting slightly to the side as Aziraphale remembered, looking at Crowley he was remembering.

"Hello, Aziraphale," Crowley spoke, only just, hushed yet ringing within Aziraphale's ears.

"Crowley." Aziraphale's eyes lit up with the recognition of Crowley.

Crowley went to speak but was silenced as the moonlit ignited Aziraphale's eyes. The night sky, he found there. A nebulas worth of colors moved, sparkled, looked at him. A blush that shouldn't be able to be formed crossed Aziraphale's face, eyes looking down slowly following the lines of Crowley before stopping at Crowley's shaded glance.

"Well, are you alright? May I look?" Crowley took another step forward, as Aziraphale did the same. Nothing more than a nod as Aziraphale waited for Crowley to see him.

Crowley quickly went to him, gentle touches, a touch to his cheek, the movement that turned his head so Crowley could see Aziraphales neck. Aziraphale let Crowley look, before he brought his hand to Crowley's cheek, turning his head to look into his eyes.

"You saved me?" Aziraphale asked, his eyes looking back at him through Crowley's shades.

"In a way, yes. Though you are different now, I'll teach you if you let me." Crowley lowered his eyes, taking in the floor patterns. "I'll see you tomorrow, then; you need your rest." Crowley dropped his hand from Aziraphale's neck, backing up and turning towards the window.

"Yes, tomorrow then? Thank you?" Aziraphale spoke quietly, a yearning growing but not one he knew what to do with. Memories filled him, remembering a touch, a kiss, remembering Crowley.

"Yes, well..stay in the tower till I come back, no sunlight. Yes..." Crowley placed a hand on the window's side, pulling on the heavy tapestry covering the light.

Aziraphale watched, feeling the need, taking in the idea of being alone, watching Crowley leave was too much. Crowley turned to face Aziraphale, looking at an angel's fidgeting hands that twisted amongst themselves, both stepped towards the other.

"Aziraphale..." Crowley whispered out as he stepped towards Aziraphale with purpose, longing.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale went to Crowley, sliding his arms around Crowley's neck, pulling him, hands twisted into hair as lips brushed each other. Need, want, a lifetime of waiting, of remembering, the longing for each other was more significant than waiting.

Aziraphale needed to see Crowley's eyes as kisses fell away to Crowley, resting his forehead against Aziraphale's, breathing him in. Crowley went to step back as Aziraphale brought his fingers to the sides of his glasses. Aziraphale held Crowley where he was simply by the light of his eyes, trapping Crowley within them.

"Stay, please." Aziraphale held the sides of Crowley's glasses, sliding them off his face, tossing them to the chair.

Aziraphale stepped forward, looking over Crowley, his eyes looking at Crowley's golden serpentine eyes that searched over him. Crowley sighed, seeing blue starlit eyes that glowed with nebulas and all the night skies' colors looking back at him. There was a need he found there, one that matched his own, Aziraphale was his.

"I remember you, I remember before, I feel from then, I feel you now." Aziraphale ran his fingers slowly over Crowley's jawline as though remembering it and taking note of it.

Crowley stayed silent, watching, letting Aziraphale remember, of how much he remembered Crowley worried. Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, looking into eyes that he found he wanted to drown in. Serpentine, Aziraphale only saw molten gold swirling, pulling him, lifting him. The sun's light shone back at him, letting his hands slide down Crowley's arms, Aziraphale lifted Crowley's wrist to his lips.

A gentle kiss placed where a pulse would have fluttered under the softest of lips, hearing the lightest of breaths Aziraphale looked into Crowleys eyes as a hand was placed over a heart that hadn't beaten in hundreds of years. Crowley felt the warmth of Aziraphale's hand over his heart, Aziraphale's life beat for Crowleys.

Taking a step forward, Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, gently bringing his hand to Aziraphale's chin. Crowley tilted Aziraphale's head up, leaning down just enough to brush his lips over Aziraphale's. Crowley grinned as he felt the air that Aziraphale no longer needed escape his lips, leaning into the kiss.

Keeping himself just far enough away from kissing Aziraphale fully, Crowley's arms wrapped around Aziraphale, pulling him against him. Needing to feel the warmth that Aziraphale still somehow retained, dragging a need that Crowley swore he would never feel again. Aziraphale let his fingers slide into Crowley's hair again, pulling him down, finally being allowed to kiss him.

Gentle, loving lips caressed over Crowleys, feeling fingers slide through his hair, Crowley deepened the kiss, ever so slightly. Different yet what he remembered, letting his tongue drift over Aziraphales lower lip asking to be let in, a light gasp, as lips parted. Unsure, pure, innocent, being given to Crowley, dragged a slight growl from somewhere deep inside Crowley.

Crowley's arms slid around Aziraphale, pushing and moving them back, stopping as Aziraphale's back hit the wall. Air rushing out of his mouth, but not letting go, his kiss deepening, becoming desperate. Crowley's need matched Aziraphale as kisses traveled from wanton lips down his angel's neck pushing his head back.

Fangs dragging but not breaking the skin, Crowley kissed, tasted his love, his angel. Aziraphale pulled back on Crowley's hair, a gasp that left Crowley as Aziraphale forced him to look back up. Aziraphale brought his lips to Crowley's neck, kissing, tasting, making his own memories of this, of Crowley.

Hands touched, intertwining their fingers together, as Crowley pulled Aziraphale with him, letting him decide if he would follow or not. Crowley walked them to the bed. Looking at Aziraphale, Crowley watched as Aziraphale crawled up onto the bed and kneeled in front of him.

Crowley waited, Aziraphale gently touched the front of Crowley's shirt, the ebony buttons being undone one at a time as lips brushed over his. Kisses followed the line of Crowley's jaw, ever so slowly down his long neck, caressing his chest's bared skin.

Crowley caught Aziraphale's hands, letting fingers slide between each other, pushing Aziraphale back to the bed. Holding Aziraphale's hands over his head, Crowley pulled at the blanket with his teeth, baring Aziraphale. Light flowing from the candles lit up Aziraphale's pale skin. Perfect to Crowley, kissing the pale skin from Aziraphale's chest to his lips.

Pulling a sound from Aziraphale that was meant only for Crowley. Crowley shivered at the sound, letting Aziraphale's hands go, sliding them down Aziraphale's body. Feeling the softness under his hands, Crowley pulled up on Aziraphale's knee, making it easier for Crowley to lay between his legs.

Crowley knew this was all new to Aziraphale, and he knew that Aziraphale was pure, never having been touched other than the light of God's blessings upon him. Knowing that Aziraphale was as close to heaven as he would ever be in his life of hell. Aziraphale whispered out Crowley's name, feeling him lay against his naked form.

Aziraphale's hands ran over Crowleys back, his neck, pulling at the open shirt. Crowley pulled his shirt off with a smile, gasping at the warmth that touched his bared skin from Aziraphale.

"Please..." Aziraphale moaned, not knowing what he was asking for, just knowing he needed something.

"I've got you.." Crowley whispered against Aziraphale's ear, his lips brushing over the warmth of his breath.

Aziraphale didn't know why, but somehow those words resonated with him. Calmed him, made him feel better though the need didn't leave him. Angelic fingers found Crowley's pants' top hem, Aziraphale wanted to feel Crowleys against him, and the feeling of clothing wasn't enjoyed.

Crowley knelt back, standing finally at the bed's side, his head tilted as he looked over his love in his bed. Away from everyone, time meant nothing here, and they had forever now, always. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley from the bed where he stayed lying there watching with the need that flowed from him, Crowley could feel it.

"Are you sure, Aziraphale? You don't have to do this." Crowley gave one last question, one last moment before he went any further with him.

"Do you want me?" Aziraphale asked, hopeful. He'd never wanted this from anyone, but Crowley inspired a want in him that he'd never had before.

Crowley laughed humourlessly; he sounded like a broken angel defeated. "Angel, I've known I want you since the moment I walked into that cathedral, and you ran out after me."

"Well, I'll never bring it up again, ask or ever even mention it again. Though if you do want me… you can have me." Reaching his hand towards Crowley, there was a moment where Aziraphale thought he would be refused, where Crowley would shake his head and step back and leaving him from the window.

Aziraphale was laying all his cards on the table, opening himself to rejection, he was bared and exposed on the bed. Aziraphale saw Crowley taking it in, drinking in his vulnerability and the depth of his sincerity.  
Suddenly Aziraphale could see nothing because Crowley was against him, ignoring his outstretched hand and pressing his body against Aziraphale's, feeling Crowley growing hard against his own.

Crowley pulled Aziraphale against the hardness of his body. Aziraphale's eyes closed as their mouths collided, Aziraphale grabbed hold of him, one arm around his neck, the other hand in his hair, tight. Crowley broke them apart for only a few seconds, gasping at each other's breath, lips barely separated, before diving back in.

Crowley was so hungry for him, his mouth devouring, with an all relentless heat. Tongues were sliding into taste their own, licking at his teeth. Aziraphale reveled in it, undulated his body up, rolling from hip to chest against him, feeling wanted, feeling desired. The chill of Crowley was battling with Aziraphale's warmth, a strange feeling that was being generated between them.

Crowley's hand was down at Aziraphale's thigh, sliding round, pulling it up alongside him, fingers pressing in enough that Aziraphale could feel each finger an ache blooming within him. Aziraphale's mouth felt like lava on the chill of Crowleys chest's flesh, sucking at the skin, biting at what he could. Fangs of sharp teeth, wet tongue laved at Crowley's neck, hands pulling at the flame-red curls.

"What do you want?" Crowley's voice was like the distant rumbles of thunder, and his touch white-hot like the shock of the lightning that announced the coming of the thunder, low and desperate.

"You, Crowley..." Aziraphale's voice a hushed whisper in comparison to Crowley's low rumble. Finding his fingers dancing down the back of Crowley, Aziraphale dug his fingers into Crowley's arse, touching the soft flesh there, pulling Crowley down against him. Aziraphale let his jaw drop on a moan at the pressure between them.

"Look at you, so beautiful, so angelic, mine." Crowley encouraged him, rolling his hips, sliding himself gently against Aziraphale, driving him mad. "I knew you'd be lovely like this."

Crowley's touch between Aziraphales legs was gentle, loving. Instinctually Aziraphale arched up against Crowley as knowing fingers slide against his hole, daring to press, to tease. Crowley kissed Aziraphale as slowly Crowley pressed into him, opening him just slightly, feeling Aziraphale tense, stopped.

Crowley was kissing against Aziraphale's neck, a nip, a bite whispering words of encouragement, hands sliding down soft thighs, pulling them up against Crowley's hard body, hooking them onto his hips. Finally, easing Aziraphale into letting his fingers slide into him.

"Please, Crowley..." Aziraphale said, begging possibly. Aziraphale relaxed into Crowley's fingers, and then there was a stretch for more.

Crowley's knuckles were pressed up against his backside's skin as he oscillated his fingers, a press of in, the long slow pull out again, again. Cultivating need, longing, want nurturing Aziraphale need of Crowley. Addictive weight laid foundations, a pull in Aziraphale's abdomen, pushing his hips downwards, demanding. It wasn't enough.

Crowley was gentle with his hands, resting his head against Aziraphale's shoulder, having held himself back to make sure Aziraphale was taken care of Crowley reached down between them. Positioning himself against Aziraphale opening. Crowley sank in slow, giving Aziraphale time, kisses at his neck, his hand up and down his thigh, patient, reassuring, waiting.

Slowly, caring, waiting to feel Aziraphale relax around him, not wanting to hurt his angel. Aziraphale pulled with his thighs pulling Crowley deeper in him, trying to hold back moans, whispers of Crowley's name. His name was pouring from Aziraphales lips almost did him in, reaching for Aziraphales hands their fingers gripped at one another.

Hands being pressed above Aziraphale's head, the slow press of Crowley's hips, pressing himself deeper into Aziraphale, Aziraphale arched against him, feeling the want of more, hearing the sounds that his angel was filling the tower with.

Crowley was beautiful, looking down Aziraphale, eyes like the molten sun, his gaze hot on Aziraphale's face. Crowley bent to lick up Aziraphale's neck, biting down into the flesh of his shoulder, his hips steadily moving to pull Aziraphale closer to the edge, chancing his angel to tumble over.

"Crowley, oh god Crowley," Aziraphale's voice hitched and caught with each movement, his moans released in little bursts of sound. Aziraphale was pulling at Crowley's soft red hair, suddenly pulling hard to direct Crowley's mouth to his.

Crowley panted into it, breathing passion and need into it, into the feeling of Aziraphale around him, the same feeling being sucked into Aziraphale's own lungs. "Crowley it, oh, please...."

"I know, Angel, I know."

Crowley knew there would be time for slow later; there would be time for longing looks from across rooms, delicate touches, learning the other's body, and deep kisses. This in the here and now was a desperate rutting of the pent-up need of the other. Aziraphale clawed at Crowley's back, fingernails digging in deeply, clawing, holding on.

He was arching his back, letting his voice gasp out on each thump of Crowley's flesh on his own. Aziraphale could feel something building within him already; an unbearably heavy heat in the base of his back, in his pelvis, causing him to shiver, tremble, his legs shook against Crowley. Instinctively Aziraphale chased the feeling, needing it desperately, pushing up, shifting himself so that every movement of Crowleys thrusting rubbed his cock up against Crowley's taut stomach.

"Ngk, Angel," Crowley bit out a moaned response to the change in position, making him change gear, losing his spine's decadent roll, but gaining speed and, somehow, more strength. Crowley placed his hands behind Aziraphale's shoulders, wrapping his fingers over them.

Finding a motion that found Aziraphale's spot, Crowley could hear the difference in his angel's moans, his name being called out more than anything. Using the grip Crowley had found, Crowley used it as leverage. Pushing just a touch deeper into Aziraphale, pulling a hand back out, Crowley used it to push himself up so he could look down on Aziraphale, bending a knee gaining leverage, pulling Aziraphale's thigh higher.

"Cum for me, Angel? Let go...Show me.."

Aziraphale felt his muscles start tensing under the will of Crowley's rhythm. Panting out Crowley's name, trying to find words that would make sense all Aziraphale could put together was "Yes, please Crowley, don't stop." pushing higher and higher, feeling the pressure spread until he could take no more.

Aziraphale's orgasm overtook and overwhelmed him; it coursed through his body and pushed the air from his lungs in Crowley's name. Holding on to Crowley as though he would float away if he let go. Aziraphale moaned, panted and gasped out into the space between them, lowly hearing Crowley growling in reply, slowing to push into him deep, to guide him through each wave.

Aziraphale panted in the air he didn't need anymore as he tried to catch his breath, feeling illuminated and floaty. Aziraphale slowly opened his eyes to find Crowley watching him, smiling as he bit the inside of his mouth.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley down to kiss him, bite at those lips himself.  
Crowley observed him, as he slowly moved inside of Aziraphale, desperately dancing on the edge, having waited for Aziraphale to fall first. With a smirk, Aziraphale hitched his legs up, hooking them under Crowley's round backside and squeezed him in tight.

It only took Crowley a moment, as Aziraphale's body gripping at him in irregular pulses, Crowley gave a few scattered growls, feral in pitch, slipping out between the clench of his teeth, fangs biting into Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Mine." was all Crowley got out as Aziraphale felt and watched Crowley fall apart, need rising in his eyes, hitching catch of his breath, feeling of Crowley's fingers scrambling at Aziraphale's shoulder blades trying to anchor, to hold on.

Crowley pushed in deep as he came, his head dipping down to rest on Aziraphale's shoulder, the sight of him and the sound of him was astonishing, addictive, something Aziraphale didn't know until now that he always needed and as often as possible.

Aziraphale held Crowley within his arms, the feeling of his weight pressing him deeper into the mattress was wonderous. The feeling of being Crowleys, the words Crowley spoke, and Mine's singular expression resonated throughout Aziraphale's mind.

God worked in mysterious ways, and God was ineffable, so maybe this was where she wanted Aziraphale to be. Could he keep Crowley, for how long, Aziraphale held onto Crowley, he only knew at that moment he wanted to keep Crowley forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed please leave comments!! Love you!


	9. Darkness of Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale turns, accepting his new  
> form, remembering and knowing who  
> Crowley was and is. As they are in the  
> tower Bee shows up, testing Aziraphale's  
> abilities for the light, finding that he is  
> something more than Bee, she brings him back  
> to the cathedral, falling in back with the children.
> 
> Aziraphale falls asleep in his chair. Gabriel and  
> Anathema wake up, and as Gabriel goes to find  
> Aziraphale finds the Cathedral bathed in devouring  
> darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No triggers!

**Chapter Nine**

_Darkness of Old_

**[Chapter Nine, Playlist - Click for Music](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi4YhLMqqybowFY2q8p-GWIU) **

Crowley stayed for a moment breathing in Aziraphale. Running his fingers through Aziraphale's hair, he was his, his love was in his arms, different yes, but his, and he remembered. Crowley rolled off of Aziraphale, pulling him close to him, feeling the weight of him against his form, still the scent of his human form not changing. It was intoxicating to him, the scent he had missed for so many years.

Aziraphale was a second chance for him to be happy; he felt as though his family was growing again. Crowley hoped that Aziraphale and Bee would get along, not purely confident that they would. Though one could hope, a word he never used any more hope. Crowley was full of it; Aziraphale filled him with hope.

Aziraphale tilted his face up, looking up into eyes that devoured him from within. A mischievous smirk danced on Crowley's face; Aziraphale looked at that smirk and wiggled slightly.

"You're smiling."

"Well, look at that. I just might be Angel."

Aziraphale pulled himself impossibly closer to Crowley, who let his arms wrap around Aziraphale, holding him as close as he could. Telling himself, he would never let go again; nothing could hurt his love now. Crowley had seen to that, he hadn't wanted to change him, at least not yet, but this was fine. It had to be.

Outside Crowley heard scampering up the side of the tower. Sitting up, Crowley knelt in front of Aziraphale, blocking him from view, protecting his mate. Aziraphale wasn't ready to fight anything, not yet, but Crowley would see to it that he knew how to fight.

A low growl formed in the pit of Crowley's chest as he watched the window. Little hands gripped the edge of the window, pulling herself up and into the tower. Crowley quickly rushed to Bee's side to help her in, not fully realizing his current state of attire.

"Well, oh good god Crowley, you, well, your naked!"

Crowley looked down, quickly grabbing the blanket from the bed, leaving Aziraphale without cover. Aziraphale's hands were quickly covering what he could as he rolled off the bed, landing with a thud on the wooden floor.

"OH CROWLEY, WHAT THE HELL!...You're both naked..."

Bee turned towards the window, wrapping her little body into the tapestry covering the open arched window. Crowley looked between Bee and Aziraphale as he fell off the bed. There was far too much happening far too quickly for Crowley not to start laughing.

Both Bee and Aziraphale were complaining, in unison about the attire of the other, and both stopped when they heard Crowley laugh. Bee looked at him, her smile fully blooming on her face; it very well was the first time she had ever heard him genuinely laugh. Platinum hair popped up from the other side of the bed as Aziraphale heard it. Both Bee and Aziraphale smiled at the other.

Bee sniffed the air; something had changed; she could smell human, it was still prevalent on Aziraphale, but as she looked at him, she could see a difference in his eyes.

"You changed him?"

Crowley nodded, grabbing a throw for Aziraphale from the chair in the room. Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, covering himself up, not enjoying the feeling of being as naked as he was. Bee patiently waited before she walked over to Aziraphale.

"How long do you think it'll take?"

"Not sure, honestly, seems to be taking rather well."

"HE still smells human Crowley."

"I noticed that too, but he's changed; I don't see anything that's not changed yet. Maybe time?"

"Crowley, you can't bring him back, not like this."

Crowley grinned.

"I wasn't planning on that just yet, Bee. I mean, it's only been hundreds of years, without them, why on earth would I want to go anywhere but here for a while."

"Oh, ew Crowley."

Crowley smirked at her, enjoying himself far too much at the moment. Aziraphale watched the two bickering for a few moments before interjecting into the conversation about him.

"May I ask a question?"

"Go ahead, angel."

"Who are you, and what do you mean not changed?"

Crowley looked at Bee, motioning for her to tell her story to Aziraphale, or what she felt like telling him. Bee twirled her way over to the bed and perched on the corner, looking at Aziraphale.

"Okay, well, he's not afraid of me, so that's good."

"Who could ever be afraid of you Bee, you're simply the loveliest of all of us."

Bee grinned, looking over at Crowley; her heart was full of love for him; it was all she knew. Letting her eyes drift back over to Aziraphale, she tilted her head; a look of confusion and question seemed to move in over her face.

"Crowley, I have a question."

Crowley had since left his chair and moved back onto the bed, pulling Aziraphale up off the floor. Sitting behind him, he rested his chin against Aziraphale's shoulder, causing Bee to squinch her nose at them both.

"What might that be, little one?"

"Well, you changed him; who is going to run the Cathedral now? Won't they come looking for him?"

Crowley took in her words, and she was right; none of what had happened had been planned out. There was a very large gap in how this all went; Crowley tightened his arms around Aziraphale. Looking between Bee and Crowley at his shoulder, Aziraphale wasn't sure what the problem was.

"Why is there a problem? I'll just go back."

Crowley Looked down into Aziraphale's eyes, he could see the worry that lies within them, yet as much as he could see, he could feel the love and protection more. Aziraphale brought a hand up to Crowley's chin, letting his fingers touch a face that he seemed to remember from so long ago. Bee smirked, turning towards the window she went to leave.

"Bee, we need to get him back to the Cathedral before anyone notices him missing. Can you take him?"

Aziraphale looked back towards Bee then up at Crowley.

"Can you not come? You were there before!"

"No, my angel, I can't; it takes far too much from me; I am hoping you are more like Bee than me."

Crowley looked towards the light that filtered in just slightly from the archway. Leaving the comfort of the bed, pulling a blanket with him, he nodded to Bee.

"Come on, Aziraphale, a few things we need to see first, though I would hope clothing would be a first, I truly don't need to be seeing any of that!"

Bee laughed as she turned around, giving Aziraphale some privacy but not from the watchful eyes of Crowley, who took in every movement, every slide of fabric, the way Aziraphale's hands smoothed over himself before turning to Bee.

"Okay, what am I doing?"

"Crowley under, please."

Bee held her hand out to Aziraphale, watching as Crowley pulled more blankets from the bed, moving into the corner of the room, hiding below the thick blankets. Aziraphale was initially concerned as he took Bee's small hand within his own; he couldn't help the smile as he looked at the little one.

"Okay, now we will just use your hand for a split second."

"My hand for what?"

"The sun, silly."

"How will we know?"

"Oh, trust me, there won't be any question; it'll be quite obvious."

Aziraphale let himself trust Bee, letting her lead him to the archway before she told Crowley she was opening the tapestry. Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, seeing the blankets tighten around his form, covering himself completely.

Holding Aziraphale's hand, Bee stuck his hand through the tapestry, letting the sun bless him. Aziraphale sighed heavily as though the sun-filled him with life. This was even different from Bee, who could live in the sun, sleep at night, but even in her small form, too much sun would make her ill.

"Well, let's move the tapestry completely, shall we, Aziraphale. What's the worse that could happen?"

From the far corner, Bee heard the growl before she listened to the words.

"It could kill him, Bee; now is not the time for jokes, little one."

"Fine, I'll do it slowly."

Bee rolled her eyes towards the corner before looking up, seeing the panicked look between her and Crowley.

"Aziraphale, it'll be fine; plus, you made him smile. That's enough for me, so let's get this done so I can place you back in the Cathedral."

Aziraphale smiled at her, nodding in understanding and agreement of what was to come.

Bee slowly pulled the tapestry open, leaving Crowley in the far corner of the tower; it was dark enough that he wasn't in the light, he stayed covered until he heard the gasp that left Bee's small form. Quickly he lowered the blanket, not thinking about the light, luckily being just far enough back to be unharmed but able to see what was going on.

The sunlight filtered in, bright, warm, and illuminating Aziraphale. Crowley watched as what he would call a halo encircled his head; by the way, the light kissed his hair. Everything about him was light; everything about Aziraphale was angelic; Crowley had no words; he had never seen anything like it.

Even Bee reached out to touch Aziraphale, she may have been able to be in the light of day, but Aziraphale seemed to be made from it. Both Bee and Crowley watched as Aziraphale looked at himself, holding up his hand. Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley, who followed in suit as he gasped much like Bee, he saw what she did.

It wasn't so much the angelic glow or the way the sun-kissed Aziraphale's hair, but it was his eyes. They were blue like the waters in the sunlight, sparkling like diamonds sprinkled with what Crowley would consider stardust. Crowley stood wanting to touch Aziraphale; he was drawn to him in a way he had never felt before.

Bee rushed forward, shoving Crowley back into the corner, giving him a swift kick to his shin. Crowley growled, looking down at Bee; it took a moment to clear his head, letting the realization of what was happening to squeeze itself into his mind. There was something about Aziraphale when in the light that drew you into him; it didn't seem to matter who or what, he just did.

Bee took Aziraphale by the hand, bringing him out to the ledge; closing the tapestry, Bee darted off the tower top dragging Aziraphale with her. He was a bit clumsy, a bit awkward, still trying to find his footing, but Bee quickly was running out of time.

Aziraphale looked around, taking in how things were flashing by him, looking at the small hand within his own. He could feel the strength of Bee, could sense her worry, concern for him, but when he thought of Crowley, he could feel the love she had for him. Aziraphale smiled, feeling the love, but why could he? It bothered him.

What seemed like only a moment in time, they had reached the Cathedral; without notice, Aziraphale found himself back in his room standing there; Bee was gone, nowhere in sight. Looking around the room, he saw his chair, slightly dazed, walking to it; Aziraphale collapsed, his eyes shutting as soon as his arse touched the seat.

Crowley sat on the end of the bed that he had stayed with Aziraphale in, watching, touching, loving again. He was happy for once; it had been a very long time, even more so that his little angel and his angel got along. Crowley suddenly stood up; something tore at his insides, pulling, yanking, painful.

Crowley dropped to the floor, holding on to himself, not knowing what it was, though his body felt as though it knew. Laying there panting, Crowley stayed curled into a ball; there was nothing he could do; the sun was out, he needed to sleep, but this whatever it was, caused pain.

Crowley wondered if Bee and Aziraphale were being attacked in the same way his body felt as though being torn apart. For a swift, fleeting moment, Crowley thought of crawling into the sun; it would be less painful. His hand tried to pull him to the light, but before he could do anything, the pain-wracked his body again, blissful blackness engulfed him.

Gabriel stirred in the bed that he had shared with Anathema, feeling the warmth of her body against his chest, listening to the slow rhythm of her breathing. Pulling his arms around her, Gabriel embraced her; something he had wanted for so long was in his arms, trusting him, sleeping.

What would the Father think? Gabriel almost panicked, but the worry slowly ebbed away from him, knowing Father Ezra would be happy for him; he couldn't deny the happiness, the contentment he felt.

Anathema slowly woke, remembering the night before she looked up into beautiful violet eyes. Reveling in the strength of the arms that held her, Anathema was happy and felt safe for the first time. She wasn't willing to lose this, something she had sworn off long ago, accepting her loneliness.

Gabriel smiled down in the warmest brown eyes he had ever seen, and for a flash, he felt and saw something else. Having been brought up Father Ezra, he had been shown love, unconditional and all-encompassing, and that was what he saw flash through Anathemas eyes. Gabriel's heart sang; he honestly had what he had always wanted; bending his head down to Anathemas, he brushed his lips over hers, sighing as Anathema kissed him back.

Begrudgingly Gabriel released Anathema, who grinned mischievously.

"Time to check on the children, and you need to check on Father Ezra."

"I know, I know, doesn't mean I have to like it. I was rather warm and comfortable."

"I bet you were, Gabrielll."

Anathema twirled away from the bed, grabbing her clothes and getting dressed. Catching Gabriel's eyes on her Anathema blushed as she bowed out of the door. Looking at the children who still lay sleeping, she picked a chair and sat in it. Knowing they all needed to go back to the village, returning the children to parents, and helping them bury the dead, none of these thoughts sat well with her; they still didn't what had caused all the carnage.

Gabriel got dressed, slowly, touching little marks that Anathema had left behind, feeling the scratches that adorned his back by a witch, his witch. Leaving the room, he smiled at Anathema, who, in turn, nodded back at him; the blush that crossed over Anathema's nose was not lost on him; he simply smiled more as he left the room.

Gabriel stopped as he left the room, closing the door behind him; the Cathedral was dark. Not a flicker of a candle nor the light of a flame anywhere with the room. The altar always had a candle lit for the god they cherished, not a candle lit for those that had passed on to a better place. None of the darkness made sense, nor did it bring comfort to Gabriel.

Even the light of day, which Gabriel presumed it was, cast any light within the Cathedral. The stained glass darkened; there was something that was blocking out all light; Gabriel could feel it. Anathema stepped out from the brightly lit room, there was no feeling of dread, but as Anathema walked out, she could feel it.

Turning anathema went back in, looking at the children, reaching down she lit a torch, bringing it back to Gabriel.

"Go back in Anathema, keep the children safe; something is very wrong out here. I need to find the Father."

Anathema first walked to Gabriel, looking at him, before looking behind him as something caught her eye.

"Stay here; I am coming with you; I just need a moment to protect the room. Please, stay here."

Gabriel stood, holding the torch he was given, waiting for Anathema to come back from the room. What was only a few minutes seemed to drag on forever; Gabriel wondered if time had stopped within the Cathedral. Things were amiss; the Cathedral felt as though it was keeping evil at bay, but the light within it was fading, being devoured by the darkness.

Anathema silently shut the door behind her, drawing a symbol of protection on it. Along the edges and around the entirety of the stained oaken door, smaller symbols, all of which was to aid in the safety of the children. Standing back, she watched the symbols all lighting up, casting light out into the darkness.

Anathema had never seen them react like this, looking between Gabriel and the door. Her hand reached back for Gabriels, quickly finding its place, fingers clasping at the other. As they turned and looked into the Cathedral, a blanket of darkness that consumed all light and blocked out all prying eyes fell upon the altar.

Blocking their sight from where Aziraphale was sleeping in his room. Gabriel held the torch out in front of him while Anathema chanted words of protection, words of light. Around them, the torch seemed to form a bubble of light as they slowly ventured to the border of the pitch black.

Gabriel touched at the dark with the torch, watching as it swirled and tried to touch the flames. Anathema doubled the amount of protection she was casting around them as ever so slowly they pushed into what seemed to be a living thing wanting to devour them, making them one within the dark.


	10. In the Arms of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dark fog that fills the Cathedral, surrounds Gabriel and Anathema as they try to get to Aziraphale's room. Bee tries to save Aziraphale as the fog keeps him in a waking dream and takes him. Crowley, can't do anything against the fog, realizing who it is, he has to stop and help those inside the Cathedral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A waking dream kiss (so non-consent?)  
> Broken bones, and choking (Not in a very vivid way or anything, but it is mentioned)
> 
> Please remember there are evil vampires as well as Crowley, who is a very nice Vampire. (smirk)

**Chapter 10**

_In the Arms of the Devil_

**[Father Forgive Me Chapter 10, Playlist - Click to play music](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi4yKElsIaM7IS0FoQnmXi0n) **

Bee had gotten Aziraphale safely back to the Cathedral, she watched him until his eyes grew heavy with sleep. Something in the air pulled at her very being, a pain, a feeling of things lost, of things desired. A feeling she hadn't honestly had since she was turned gripped at her, fear. Quickly looking back once more at Aziraphale, she pulled a throw from the other chair in the room covering him.

Aziraphale was somehow still human. Not entirely but enough where she could smell his blood could hear something of a heartbeat that had started as soon as he was finished being turned. Aziraphale was different, much like herself; Bee was more light; she soaked in the sun, kept it, and beamed with it.

Bee's head whipped around; she could smell two different scents of blood. She was hungry; it had been days since she last ate. This was inside the Cathedral. She was forbidden from doing anything with the Cathedral especially eating off the ones that dwelled inside its walls.

Bee walked to the door, touching the knob; she quickly pulled her hand from it, pain. This was the fear she felt; she could feel it permeating the Cathedral. Wood and stone, glass, and the air that filled the Cathedral were tainted with feeling. Was this what Crowley had warned her about? Bee remembered Crowley telling her, if she felt pain, if she felt worried to run, as fast as she could.

It was quick, though, one that she decided on. Just as quickly as she had the thought, the darkness wrapped around her little throat, lifting her from the ground. Panic set in; Bee tried to fight against the darkness; she saw the mist swirling around the base of Aziraphales's chair.

Gabriel and Anathema slowly made their way through the darkness that swirled around them. They could feel the breeze the darkness was creating, cold, something of fear. Anathema felt it more than Gabriel, her hands gripping harder onto Gabriel's arm. Gabriel lifted his arm from her hands, instead pulling her closer to him.

The torch bathing them in a blanket of light, of warmth. The dance of shadow and flame disappearing in the darkness, devoured by it. The only shadows danced over the light the fire cast on their faces. Anathema looked up with worry at Gabriel, her eyes molten chocolate warmed by the flames of the torch. Her eyes met with Gabriels; both had the same feeling of dread; he squeezed her closer to him.

Each step, each second, they walked closer to where Aziraphale slept. The air seemed to thicken, slowing them. Gabriel worried that the all-consuming darkness would have swallowed Aziraphale whole. Another step, deeper into the darkness, their legs growing heavy as they pushed through the mist.

Still in the tower, Crowley opened his eyes. Blinking away the haze that lingered, Crowley realized the pain had left him. How long was he passed out, his thoughts quickly changing to Aziraphale, his daughter, his Bee. Panic.

Standing, he looked towards the window and jumped out. Ebony wings snapped open, carrying him on the wind as fast as his body could manage. The landscape nothing more than a blur as he pushed himself even further. A sudden stop as he looked at the Cathedral. Black mist swirled around it; only the Cathedral's shape remained, and even then, bits pulsed. Touching, pulling back, the Cathedral was surrounded, gone, devoured.

Crowley knew his Bee and his love were in there; he had to find a way in. As he grew closer, he stopped again. He knew that smell, that scent, it was an old thing. A forgotten thing, something he had not thought on for a long time, but here he was. The pain he had felt, the black fog that was eating the light, turning the Cathedral into nothing.

Lucifer. Crowley growled ferally, the one that had changed him as he walked through that black fog. The feeling that had encompassed him on that night. Lucifer, the one that had left Crowley on his dock out by the water left him there, watched as he killed his love without knowing what he was doing.

Gabriel held Anathema, another step, their feet growing heavy with a weight they couldn't explain. There was life to this mist. Gabriel watched at the edges of where the torch touch with light; the fog seemed to reach towards it before pulling back into itself.

A sound, something Gabriel couldn't quite place, started to move within the darkness. The torch flickered for a moment; both looked up at the flames realizing it was slowly dying out. The scittering, the pattering of small feet slowly grew, louder and louder until it followed them.

The flame started to die out with each step, and the creatures in the black fog growing closer. Anathema looked up at Gabriel; tears were welling in her eyes; Gabriel had never wanted to see Anathema with so much fear. Such panic growing within her, a single tear ran down her cheek, catching the light shining like a diamond for only a moment when she finally spoke.

"Rats Gabriel, that sound, it's rats. What is this fog? It's alive; I can feel it."

"I know, Anathema, we're more than halfway there; it'll take longer to get back to the room than it will be to get Aziraphale's room."

"The torch isn't going to last that long Gabriel, we can barely push through it as it is."

Gabriel pulled her closer to him, the two huddling in the ever closing embrace of the light that surrounded them. Another step and Gabriel decided to reach the torch further in front of them; he heard the gasp from Anathema as he pulled her into him.

Rats, large, vicious, screeched out as the light touched them. Still, though, what bothered Gabriel the most was that he couldn't see nor find Aziraphale's office door. The stained glass window of the Lord was how he placed where they were. Turning his head to see his bedroom door, he couldn't find it.

If this was right, they had gone all of thirty feet from the door; they just couldn't see it anymore. Aziraphale's office was at the far end of the Cathedral at least three hundred feet if not more, and they had gone all of thirty.

Gabriel spun them around, another step closer to the door they had left. His breathing became panicked as he tried to pull them faster to the protection of the door that Anathema had warded against anything evil, protecting the children within. Gabriel had to get Anathema back there at all costs; he wasn't going to lose her to this mist.

Bee struggled as she watched the mist caress, touch, and lure Aziraphale awake. Standing with the help of the mist as it swirled around him, Aziraphale was turned around. Bee tried to speak, anything to break the glazed-over eyes of Aziraphale.

Bee could see that Azirphale was being lured out of the room; no, the mist suddenly wrapped around him, lifting him off the floor. The window creaked open; Bee could feel the tightening around her neck as she struggled, preventing her from making a sound that might interfere with whatever this was.

Panic-stricken, Bee tried to reach out to Aziraphale, just a touch, and she could awaken him. It was the last squeeze of the fog around her neck that made the little one's eyes shut before she was dropped to the floor like a ragdoll. The last vision she saw before darkness consumed her was Aziraphale being swallowed by the mist.

Anathema looked up at Gabriel, whose face had nothing but confusion, fear, a look that she knew. Determination, he knew something that he wasn't telling her; she started to panic fully, for Gabriel had just said they were closer to Aziraphale's door than the other; still, her feet moved with his pressing further, as fast as their weighted legs and sluggish feet would take them.

"Gabriel, why did we turn around? Please tell me."

"I saw the stained glass window; I know this Cathedral, I grew up here. That pane of glass held the Lord within it, which meant we were maybe thirty feet from where we started. We are nowhere near Aziraphale's room."

Anathema turned her eyes forward, her ears hearing a strange dragging sound coming up from behind them. They both pushed further, harder, trying to move faster before the torch went out. The light was dying faster now; something reached out of the darkness touching Anathema where the light didn't.

A light but panicked gasp, almost a scream, left Anathema's mouth, feeling the burn from misty fingers that grazed her. Gabriel all but picked her up, placing her in front of him, letting the light love her, falling over her entire body. The door they could see the glow of the runes she had placed to protect children illuminated the area around the door, even as they watched the mist touched and prodding against only to be forced back.

Only a few more steps to get there, Gabriel pushed them both forward, the torch not much more than a burning ember lit the way. Gabriel could feel the burning scratch marks down his back; he just didn't let Anathema know.

Another rip down the back of both his legs dragged a painful sounding moan from him. Anathema instinctually tried to turn and look at him only to find herself being shoved with all his might towards the door. She fell to her knees as she hit the door, quickly she turned to see the torch go out in that same moment.

Reaching out, her hand was too late. Watching in horror as the light went out and the mist engulfed Gabriel pulling him back into the Cathedral, she screamed for him. Yelling till her voice went raw, against the screams, she could hear from him. Covering her ears against the sound of breaking bones, his cries, her loves screams until she listened to a final gurgle from him, and all went silent.

Sitting in the light of the runes she had placed, the darkness reached for her, letting the runes burn it. Anathema saw it, speaking in a language of old, the runes grew stronger, finally hearing the mist screech back at her, low hate-filled growl reached her ears. Turning, she opened the door and walked in; as she closed it against the sounds from just beyond her runes, she let the tears fall down her face.

The children, she had to check the children. Relief washed over her as she counted them. All of them were present. Then she remembered, one was missing, the little one that had just arrived she was gone. Anathema looked back towards the door, had the little one gone out there, did the mist take her?

Aziraphale was in a mesmerizing trace. Caressed, loved, touched, whispered too in a lover's tone. Slowly he was carried from the window out into the night's air, the moonlight embracing him, illuminating him in a way that was akin to being an angel.

Crowley saw the light that shined from Aziraphale, or to Aziraphale, but he saw him being carried away from the Cathedral. Then dawned on him that Bee wasn't with Aziraphale, a panicked breath he didn't even need to leave him. Flying straight for Aziraphale, the mist surrounded Aziraphale, stealing him away and into its dark loving caress.

Crowley tried to reach for Aziraphale, only to have his hand burnt as though the sun had kissed it for a mere moment. Screaming, Crowley pulled his hand back, holding it against his chest, watching as it healed itself. Crowley knew it was Lucifer, the one that changed him, causing him to fall into the abyss that became his life.

Lucifer smiled as he caused Crowley pain, knowing full well that he would feel so much more pain. Swirling around Aziraphale, Lucifer brushed his lips over Aziraphale's, only to be dragged back down into a kiss. Smiling, as angelic arms wrapped around his neck, Lucifer knew the only reason why he was being kissed back was the effervescence of the darkness.

Lucifer's lure, his ability to cause people to do what he wanted, was one made out of sheer temptation, though this was different. Lucifer wanted Aziraphale; it was as simple as that, but there was a catch, there was always a catch, Crowley. Though for the moment he took the kiss he was given, Lucifer knew it would never be for him but would try, or he would keep him in a waking dream.

Everything was planned out; from the moment Crowley was turned, it was all part of Lucifer's ineffable plans. Crowley had something he wanted, someone that resisted his charms, his temptations. Having been rejected by her, by the one thing Lucifer wanted, and only then to be seen with Crowley.

Watching as they loved each other, watched as they became one in a lover's embrace. Then to hear their plans for the future, his anger grew; jealousy, rage, hate devoured him. As if by luck, Crowley had left the safety of his mansion, and when Crowley walked out onto the dock, Lucifer pounced.

There was nothing gentle about the way Lucifer changed Crowley. It was dark, evil, painful, all-encompassing as Lucifer's bite dragged Crowley into hell. If Lucifer couldn't have her, then no one would, let alone Crowley. Lucifer gave Crowley no warnings. No instructions, he simply watched as Crowley made his way back into the mansion.

Lucifer smirked evilly as Crowley was embraced by his love, one of the most beautiful women Lucifer had ever seen, and oh how he had wanted her, but now, he watched as Crowley swallowed the very blood and life of his true love. Lucifer felt and devoured the screams of Crowley, knowing full well that Crowley had come out of his bloodlust only to be holding Azirphales lifeless body.

The memory was good and well enough, but still, something inside of him, some shred of humanity, broke, or maybe the thought he had loved Aziraphale and always did. That memory caused him pain that even back then, she still shed tears that such a beautiful light had been snuffed out, and he was the cause.

For hundreds of years and so many changes, Lucifer had waited for her to come back. Everyone did in one way or another, they all came back, and finally, that light he remembered, her scent had reemerged. Maybe not in her prior form, but in another. Aziraphale was beautiful, an angel in a Cathedral as if placed there by God to humiliate him.

When he arrived, Lucifer waited, watched Aziraphale his entire life, and waited for him to be grown. Sending Crowley out to either kill him or change him either way, it didn't matter. Though Lucifer was hoping for the change, even in a new life, the old life would remain, a love of Crowley would still be there. So Lucifer sent Crowley to do his bidding.

Lucifer knew when Crowley had seen, had smelled his love within a different body, but they were vampires and honestly did not care about any of that human hangups; they were useless to their kind. Lucifer felt each time Crowley and Aziraphale had seen one another in a dream, knowing he let Hastur take Aziraphale, bringing Crowley to him. Knowing full well that Crowley would have to change him.

Lucifer simply laid out the rules to his ineffable plan, playing them all like a game of chess that he would win regardless. This was his plan, and as ineffable as it might be, the players were about to change the rules. Even as Lucifer made it back to the mansion in the very top rafters under the cloak of invisibility, Lucifer resided.

Laying Aziraphale onto his bed, he let his fingers touch the face of one he had loved so long ago, under his spell, under his being. It was easy this time, Aziraphale had just been changed, and even though he had fed, he still had held onto some of his humanity. Lucifer could smell Aziraphale's blood, placing his hand on Aziraphale's chest, Lucifer could still feel a heartbeat that shouldn't have remains; Lucifer had no idea what Aziraphale had become.

Crowley knew there was nothing more he could with Lucifers shaded mist around Aziraphale, but he turned towards the now empty Cathedral, looking at the window where Aziraphale had resided. Bee, where was she?

Quickly, he flew into the open window pulling his wings back as he landed without a sound, his eyes looking through the darkness seeing her small crumpled body on the floor. Crowley felt something in his chest drop, knowing it was a heart that had stopped long ago. Still, his daughter lay in a pile on the floor.

Kneeling beside her lifeless little body Crowley picked her up, letting tears flow from his eyes; he didn't care. This was his. Bee was his, his friend, his little love, his daughter; the rage was building faster than his sorrow. Then he thought of the witch, he knew that they were in the Cathedral. Even as lifeless as Bee was, there was a sliver of hope that with care, she might come back.

Crowley was willing to take that sliver of hope and hang onto it. Crowley held her close in his arms as he kicked the door open, yelling into the Cathedral; all of the torches lit his way. Looking just a bit further down and into the shade of the lights, he could see Gabriel; he would have to come back out for him.

Crowley called out for Anathema, who peeked out the door; seeing the light, she stepped out, seeing the small vessel in which Crowley was carrying to her.

Anathema quickly ran to Crowley, holding her arms out for the little one; she felt how cold she was, felt how heavy, how there was no heartbeat. Seeing fingerprints around her little throat. Crowley saw them too in the light; Bee wasn't healing; she just was in the state she took her last breath, a tear of lost hope ran down Crowley's cheek.

"Take her inside Anathema, I will go get Gabriel; I saw him; just prepare yourself for what is to come."

"Alright, Crowley, but tell me one thing before you get him, is the little one like you?"

Crowley nodded his head as his eyes washed over Bee.

"Yes, Anathema, long ago, I saved her from being devoured, I turned her, I have loved her ever since, she is my daughter. I need to go get Gabriel, have his bed ready for him."

Anathema nodded and turned on her heel, carrying Bee close to her chest; as she entered the room, she could have sworn she had heard Crowley sob once, saying Bee's name.

So he did have feelings and things he loved, Anathema looked down at the little one. The perceptions of the pain Crowley was going through radiated from, Crowley could love, and Bee was what had shown him he could. Anathema was being entrusted with Crowleys, daughter. That made Bee all the more needing of care; there would be no heartbeat, no blood, and no air needed.

Figuring out what to do would not be easy, if not impossible, as she thought Anathema heard the door open and close. It was then that Anathema realized Crowley could enter the room even though the wards were to keep his kind out, more so to keep any evil out. Crowley wasn't evil; he was something different from the rest, as was Bee.

Anathema placed her hand over her mouth as she saw Gabriel being carried as close to Crowley's chest as he could. Holding his body from moving, Crowley's feet barely touching the floor as he went not to jostle Gabriel's broken body.

Quickly Anathema opened the door to the bedroom Gabriel, and Anathema had shared the night before. Crowley laid him down; looking over his body Crowley shook his head. Anathema looked at Crowley for some reassurance; Crowley could feel it. Looking back at Anathema, he smiled just a little, no reason to give false hope. This was dire.

"His heart still beats although slowly, forced, something in him is all that is keeping his going, Anathema."

"All I need is a heartbeat."

Anathema laid her hand on Ganriels chest, feeling the labored beating of his heart. Gabriel's clothes were torn, shredded in some areas, blood seeped from him, in so many places that Anathema didn't know where to start; Crowley could feel her hope ebbing away, placing his hand on her shoulder as he stood Anathema looked up at him.

"Start with the worst one's Anathema, one injury at a time, stop the bleeding, then worry about the bones."

Anathema nodded as she saw his arm bent in too many ways, his leg broken; it was more than she could handle, she knew it; Gabriel would forevermore not be able to do anything for himself. Crowley started to leave to check on Bee before heading to his mansion when Anathema pulled on him.

"Crowley, if I can't fix this, promise me you'll change him, please. I don't want to be without him; he never judged me for what I am; he simply loved me for so long."

Crowley tilted his head, this was something he promised he would never do to a human, but this human was already bitten in a way that would cause him to die and not change. It would be just like when he saved both Bee and Aziraphale; in a way, his family was growing in a pleasing way, knowing what they were doing, and Crowley never deserted them. He taught them.

"Do you best here, he isn't going to die, just yet, but if it comes to that, wake him enough, pain or not, so her can yes in his own words."

Anathema nodded in agreement before she added, still holding onto Crowley.

"Crowley, if it comes to that, I want to change with him, I know what you are, I have for years, and you know that. When I was a child, you taught me how to know what the woods held, what to look for, to recognize your kind. I remember you, Crowley, which is why I always missed the target, and you, well, are not evil. You can walk through my runes to keep evil out."

Crowley looked at her again; she remembered him from that long ago; he thought he had left her at a time when she couldn't, wouldn't recognize him. He smiled at her...

"If it comes to that, I will but promise me you will think on it; if I change him and you, I will have to make it a bond for you both for all eternity. Neither of you will want to be without the other; I know how that feels; it makes you want to die."

Anathema nodded, releasing her hold on Crowley's wrist, turning her attention to both Bee and Gabriel. She watched as Crowley left the protected room, leaving her with the monumental task of healing those within. Thinking she remembered something, this whole thing started at the village, they had never gone back, and no one ever came looking for their children; worry filled her; she would have to mention that to Crowley when he came back.

**Author's Note:**

> https://twitter.com/blackrayvn


End file.
